


Waiting on a Signal

by CBFirestarter, TrenchcoatBaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Eventual Romance, Flight Medic Castiel, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Online Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paramedic Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Secret Identity, Sex Club, Sub Dean Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Two Person Love Triangle, this gets kinky so check each chapter for tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter/pseuds/CBFirestarter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatBaby/pseuds/TrenchcoatBaby
Summary: Dean Winchester, hardworking medic, has two ways of coping with the demands of the job. One, he chats online with his anonymous best friend and fellow medic, FlyBoy83. Two, he’s a member of Black & Blue, a BDSM club where he subs twice a month. One night, he’s finally paired with a blue-eyed dom he’s been eyeing for months, a man he’s waited to call Master.Or, the story of how Dean and Castiel are online best friends who fuck each other senselessly in real life…and never even know it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CBFirestarter: Once upon a time there were two best friends who decided to write a fanfic together…
> 
> TrenchcoatBaby: Oh hell yeah. One of them (aka, you) was already an epic writer of BDSM and I just kinda came along for the ride. The KINKY RIDE OF A LIFETIME.
> 
> CB: But how kinky are we gonna go here? Like can we really just go for it? Kinky dirty depraved debauchery with two hot medics?
> 
> TCbaby: Oh, GIRL. 1) I love you, 2) We are the kinkest fic-reading friends in our beta group (who we love, btw!!) so it’s gonna get steamy. up. in. here. 3) We did set out to write a story that appealed to our tastes specifically, which are always so aligned, but to prevent spoilers for our lovely readers, we’re gonna be posting smut warnings at the end of every chapter. Things will always be safe, sane, and consensual, but if you’re worried about some of the explicit content, check each chapter’s end!
> 
> CB: There is no one in the world who is better to let my kinky writing freak flag fly with than TCbaby, so it’s about to get hot in here. To top it off, my talented friend TCbaby suggested a two-person love triangle, to which I said…why the fuck not!
> 
> TCbaby: Oh god, yeah, that’s one of our favorite tropes and I love getting to write it with you!! Honestly this is the dream. 
> 
> CB: This fic is already so much fun 'cause I get to write it with you. And so long as we’ve got a red, needy ass for Dean and a sinful dom brow on Cas, we are gonna be just fine. Our goal is to post this bad boy (or good boy 😉) every Friday, but we may need to be flexible (just like Dean).
> 
> TCbaby: Oh my god, CB, your ability to turn everything into a sexy fic reference slash innuendo is truly AMAZING. The world is honestly not ready for us to collab on this, but who cares what the world wants, ‘cause we know what the world NEEDS…which is some quality filth + solid BFF pining that’s gonna get your heart pounding and aching all at the same time.
> 
> CB: what can I say you bring out the best in me. So without further ado, time to let this kinky Destiel ship sail!

Dean tugs at a loose string on the arm of his chair, eyes darting up to see if Pam has finished reading his sheet yet. He closes his eyes and tries to picture himself sitting behind the wheel with open highway in front of him, anything to calm himself down. He’s been in the BDSM scene for years and a member of the Black & Blue Club for fourteen months, and still his body surges with nervous energy. He’s played it safe for a long time, not changed his limits list. He’s enjoyed the scenes he’s done but he just knows something is…missing. He wants more, wants someone to break him down and send him to a true subspace.

He’s found that scening is kinda like a high for him, the rush of adrenaline addictive. Probably why he likes working on an ambulance so much, the rush of a call and thinking on his feet, there’s nothing like it. He likes being on the road doing calls too, out on the streets around Boston like watching over his home turf. He doesn’t really think of himself as a thrill seeker, he isn’t about to jump out of a plane or anything—giant metal death traps—but submitting gives him a similar jolt to the heart that he craves. Truth is, he’s kinda lost some of the thrill and needs something new, leading him to increase his kink list and decrease his limit list for the club. The owners, Billie and Pam, had both insisted on going over it and making him wait a week to really think it over before he was paired with a new dom.

He doesn’t even know the new dom’s name, but then again he didn’t know most people’s real names, only Pam and Billie did. They’re the BDSM matchmakers basically, and he can’t argue with their instincts. Some people use an alias name but Dean has never felt the need, he enjoyed the varying pet names the doms he’s had before picked for him. He had liked the doms he’d scened with so far. Starting with someone new is always a little nerve-wracking but he trusts Pam, plus it’s just a trial run. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hope it could become a regular appointment. He likes having scenes to look forward to, his reward to himself at the end of a long working tour.

He glances up to see Pam waving him over. He slowly, purposefully, rises out of his seat and makes his way over to the main desk. It’s a Saturday night and the club is fairly full, three or four subs and a dom or two are milling about in the waiting area and bar, waiting until they’re matched up for a scene. He glances down the hallway to see several red lights lit up over the different rooms, showing they’re occupied.

“Hey there, sugar. So I reviewed all your changes. You feel good about going forward on these?” Pam raises a brow at him, like she can read his mind…and sometimes he thinks she can.

“Positive,” he nods, tossing her a playful wink.

“Okay, I ran your profile by one of the doms here tonight and he should be ready for you soon. He’s currently prepping room seven, so just wait until the signal light turns green. You know the drill.” Pam tucks his paperwork away and he thanks her before resuming his previous seat. He tries not to fidget, but it’s been a stressful week—two codes the night before, and a whole bunch of drunks from Saint Patrick’s Day trying to puke on him. He did not feel like wearing the mantle of responsible—save-the-world—Dean Winchester. Tonight he just wants to be good for his dom and not worry about anything else.

He turns on his cell and opens his Signal chat to tell his friend FlyBoy83 that he can’t talk tonight, but sees that he is basically telling him the same thing.

Medic67 4:28 PM >> **well hey, just a heads up i’ll be offline for a few hours**

Medic67 4:28 PM >> **you headin to your date soon?**

FlyBoy83 4:29 PM << **Yes, I’m getting ready for it right now actually.**

Medic67 4:30 PM >> **you feelin nervous still?**

FlyBoy83 4:31 PM << **I’m more excited now, actually.**

Medic67 4:32 PM >> **cool. good luck**

Usually he chats with his best friend whenever they both have the same time off of work, and he normally hates to miss that, so he’s glad that FlyBoy has plans too. He worries about him not getting out there enough and it doesn’t sound like he hardly ever goes on dates. Crazy to think that FlyBoy83 is his best friend and he doesn’t even know the guy’s real name or what he looks like. He’d never pictured himself having a best friend who was solely online. A fact his little brother loves to rag on him about, but come on, twenty-seven is not that old—he can handle basic technology like chat apps.

He waits another ten minutes before the light above door seven turns green, making his heart thump in his chest. He moves toward the room, getting a little thumbs up from Lisa—a fellow sub he’s come to know the past few months. Fuck, he should not be this nervous…he doesn’t want to make a bad impression on this new dom. He takes a few deep, slow breaths before opening the door.

He glances around, taking in nearly double the amount of implements and tools in the room than he’s used to seeing. Impact toys, stockade, suspension rigging, spanking bench, and the typical blanket-less bed.

“Strip and come here so I can get a look at you,” a deep rough voice catches his attention. He sees a man standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed, staring at him. And holy fuck, he got put with Blue Eyes!

He’s subtly—or not so subtly—been crushing on the guy for months, with his dark rumpled sex hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. The man moves with such confidence and purpose and Dean always felt drawn to him. He should have known they had never been matched before because his list was too tame. This was a man who, when he played, played hard.

Dean is so fucking ready for it.

He hurries to pull off his clothes, wondering why can he never seem to do that as sexy as they do it in movies. He moves in front of the man, going into a standard display pose, feet spread apart, chest out, arms clasped behind him, head up with eyes cast to the floor in submission. He stares down at the black boots and dark denim, swallowing hard. He feels his skin prickle even in the warm room. 

“Safeword?” the voice rumbles, and if Dean had known _that_ voice came with _that_ face, he would have bribed Billie or Pam to pair him with the guy ages ago.

“Impala, Sir.”

“It’s Master to you, not Sir, do you understand, slut?” the man growls in his ear, and Dean’s cock twitches in the open air.

“Yes Master,” he answers swiftly.

“You’re going to be a good little toy for me, aren’t you?” the dom all but purrs, and Dean lets the words sink into him. “I can tell you’re eager to please.”

“Yes, Master.” He keeps his breathing steady as the man circles him. He catches glimpses of thick thighs in his jeans and can see a bulge in the front of his pants. Dean takes that as a good sign if he can get the guy hard already.

“Going to let me use all your slutty holes however I want, huh? Bet you’d just love to be stuffed full and spanked till you scream.” Dean shivers at the words and Master chuckles. “Needy little cockslut, just how I like my toys. Display, and show me that desperate hole of yours.” 

Dean practically falls to his knees at the deep, lust-filled command. He bends over, pressing his forehead to the ground, and sticks his ass in the air. He reaches back with both hands and spreads his cheeks as wide as he can, fingers digging into his own skin. The footsteps echo in the room as Master moves behind him. The toe of his boot presses into his thigh, lifting his ass a little higher. Holy fuck…if that isn’t so hot. He feels his dick fill out with the press of leather and rubber to his skin. The boot slides up the inside of his thighs and just barely taps at his balls, making him flinch. Fuck, this guy might be the actual death of him.

“Perfect perky ass for a little fuck toy. Just waiting for someone to wreck you, make this hole gaping.” The boot lowers and a dry finger presses at his hole and Dean can’t hold back the whimper, feeling his dick twitch in the air. “Nice and tight for such a little slut.” The man walks off toward the corner. “Stand with hands behind your back.” Dean is quick to respond, and he can tell the man is testing his obedience.

“Tell me what you want, toy,” the man demands, coming back to stand in front of him. He can see the man’s nipples through his white t-shirt and he wants to latch onto one and suck. 

“I want you, Master,” he manages to answer. There’s a list of dirty filthy things on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to pick one.

“Hmm, well you have me. I’ve wanted you, I’ve seen you here before. Thought of all the things I’d want to do to you. Sink my teeth into you, tease and suck and fuck every part of you until you couldn’t breathe, until I owned every inch of you and wrung you dry. Strap you down and get you hard, cock weeping for me, but I wouldn’t let you come, not until I was ready, not until you couldn’t take it anymore. Bend you over my stand and breed you up like the beautiful needy bitch in heat that you are. Satisfy every single dark desire you have. When you say you want me, is that what you want, toy?”

Dean’s legs are practically shaking now, cock hard and mouth run dry. If someone could talk him to an orgasm it would be this man. “All of that, Master.”  Dean can’t hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Any final words before I show you how I use my toys?” The man grins at him now, and holy fuck, that sinful mouth.

Dean shakes his head.

“Open,” he commands, and Dean can almost feel the man’s jeans brush against his erection. He complies and the man feeds a black penis gag into his mouth. It’s a stretch but not as wide as a typical ball gag. He feels the ridges of it graze against his palate and his tongue presses against the unforgiving rubber. He chokes a little when it’s finally seated a few inches into his mouth, and the leather straps are pulled around the back of his head. It has a sweet kind of flavor to the rubber and he hates to admit how good it feels. He’d rather be stuffed with a real cock, but in lieu of that he figures this is the next best thing. “There, don’t want any of your needy holes empty now do we, suck on it for me…yes, just like that.” Dean hollows his cheeks and makes an obscene sucking sound around the gag, mouth pooling with saliva. His Master’s mouth leans in and kisses softly over his stretched lips. He wants so badly to kiss that plump mouth back, and he whimpers as teeth nip hard at his bottom lip. He hears a chuckle and opens his eyes, unsure when he closed them, and sees the man moving behind him.

A clicker so he can safeword is placed in his palm, and his hands are pulled behind his back and secured in leather cuffs. He feels the heat of the man behind him, pressed up against him, and his mind spins with all the things he might do to him. He lets out another whimper, this time muffled by the gag. It earns him a quick swat to the hip and he jumps a little. “No whining, toy, I will use you how and when I want.” Dean nods at that, unable to say the _yes Master_ , that’s on his lips.

He’s guided over toward the spanking bench and kneels over the top of it. He can feel the come beading at the tip of his cock and it swings untouched below him. A hand cards through his hair, a soothing calming caress. He so badly wants to wrap a hand around himself or rut up against something. The urge for friction is driving him mad and making him pant around the gag.

“None of that. Can you be still, or do I need to tie you down?” The scolding tone makes him freeze where he was rocking on the bench. He drops his head and stays as still as he can. Slender fingers wrap hard around his cock then, making him jump. “Be a good little toy for me and I won’t have to cage this pretty leaking cock. If you can’t stay still, however, I will have no choice and you will not be coming tonight.”

The threat is real, the growl in his voice and grip on his cock make that very clear. He nods, letting his body sink into the bench. He wills himself to be good, just be good, and he will get his reward. He can do that, he can be a good boy. The first hit jars him as a searing pain spreads across his ass. He manages to stay still as his Master smacks the leath paddle across his cheeks, the meat of his thighs and right across his seat bones. His skin burns and prickles with heat and tears drip from his eyes, blurring his vision. Cold fingers tease and stroke across his burning flesh between hits, making his cock jump everytime in need. All he can think and feel is the pleasure pain of his burning skin and the dull throb of his needy cock. His arms strain against the cuffs, shoulders braced for each hit, and he feels himself drifting off.

His Master keeps up a litany of words as he smacks him, “Beautiful skin pinking up for me...perfect little whore...love getting used don’t you… so good at taking everything I give you.” The praise mixed with the taunts makes his cheeks flush and heart sing with approval.

Finally the hits stop and he drags in ragged breaths through his nose, teeth clenched on the gag now. Limp and drained and still impossibly turned on, he sags against the bench, head dropped down and swimming in the euphoria of it. He’s always been a bit of a masochist, something people accuse him of who don’t know his extracurricular activities. But the first time he’d had a partner manhandle him a little and dig their fingers in, he’d known he was gonna seek more of that out.

“Good toy, I think you deserve a reward.” A slick finger presses at his hole and he lets out a low moan as it sinks into him. “A little birdy told me that you don’t need any prep, that you’re such a slut for cock you can take all of me right away. Going to test that theory, shall we?” The finger retreats and something hard is pressed to his hole before he can feel the warm liquid filling him and pulling back out. _A lube gun?_

A tear of a foil packet gets his attention and he desperately wants to lift his head and get his eyes on the cock he’s been eyeing through this guy’s jeans for months. He knows better though and stays completely still. He’s pressing in then, a firm hand on his hip and one on his back as the cock sinks into him. He lets out a low whine, feeling his muscles loosen under tight penetration. He’s always been proud of his ability to control his muscles and he loves the stretch and burn of it. The cock rocks slowly in and out a few times, and god, it just keeps fucking going. He’s only ever taken a toy this big.

“That’s it, let me in pretty whore, let me fuck this pretty tight cunt of yours.” Master groans, and with a push, bottoms out—balls slapping against his skin and hips smacking into his sore seatbones. “Fucking hell, you’re tight for a slut,” his master’s voice sounds strained. He feels utterly stuffed full as he starts to thrust and move. “Taking me so good toy, mmm fuck, you feel amazing. I could fuck this hole all night.”

The angle begins to brush against his prostate and his cock only grows harder and harder with each passing thrust. He needs more, more, more, he needs to come so bad he thinks he might actually die if he can’t, and maybe he should have jerked off this week so he wasn’t so pent up but he’s been dreaming about this for so long, being totally used, totally fucked and it’s even better than he thought. His mind floats, almost detaching as he becomes nothing more than his body, nothing more than the sensations flooding through him. He shakes with the effort to stay still as his Master pounds into him, feeling his balls tightening and sucking up toward his stomach. “That’s it, take it, take it.” His Master’s deep, sexy voice rumbles through the room as he is truly fucked senseless against the bench. Fingers dig into his hips painfully and he can feel it building his climax. 

“You can come on my cock or not at all,” Master growls, and he feels it then rushing up out of him, spasming and clenching as his cock pulses and comes across the floor below him. He feels everything, every muscle, every wet drag and burn of his skin and yet it’s all a blur of sensation as he floats, barely registering the growl as the body behind him stills and the cock in his ass throbs.

The cock pulls out and hands pull his cheeks apart. “Beautiful, gaping, slutty hole,” his master purrs, using a finger to tug at his rim and causing him to whimper. “You and I will have so much fun, my perfect toy… finally all mine,” his voice is lower now, almost reverent, and Dean purrs at the sound of it. _Yours all yours,_  he thinks and sighs as a cool cloth wipes him down and the cuffs and gag are removed. He collapses into the bed with his master, who hums softly, stroking his hair while he slowly but surely comes back to himself. “Thank you, so good for me, thank you,” the man whispers to him and Dean hums in pleasure. He’d made him happy…he could really get used to this whole Master thing.

*** 

Castiel slips into his Lincoln Continental with a satisfied smile, feeling the day’s tension roll off his shoulders, settling low into his stomach. Through his dirty windshield, he spies a hint of greenery on the trees—a vibrant sign of spring. The lush color reminds him of his submissive’s eyes and he sighs contentedly…he has to remind himself that the stranger isn’t _his,_ not really. Castiel will request to play with him again, of course, but his schedule as a flight medic is taxing and unpredictable. He would scene much more often if he could, but at the moment, twice a monthly is usually all he can squeeze in. Still, what just happened was one of the most satisfying scenes he’s arranged in a long time, possibly ever, and his exquisite new sub is entirely to thank for that.

While his car idles, he turns his cell phone back on and scrolls through his messages. It’s always difficult for him to switch between his two identities, to leave the dom persona behind at the end of the night and return to Castiel—coworker, friend, brother. Sometimes he longs for someone who fits perfectly in both his worlds, a needy little toy who loves his dom side as well as a life partner who wants to experience life together. It’s a fantasy, though…he’s tried a handful of times to combine his sexual desires with a committed relationship, but it’s always gotten too complicated too quickly. He thrums his fingertips on the steering wheel and resolves himself to another night of sleeping alone in an empty apartment.

He has a few unread messages from his coworkers—his group message with Hannah, Anna, Inias, and Balthazar is blowing up tonight. He skims through it, seeing that Anna had a younger patient require in-flight critical care…her third minor this month. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he’ll bring her a coffee tomorrow morning to cheer her up.

The person he loves talking to the most is waiting in his Signal app—a flurry of new messages from Medic67, a local paramedic. He struck up a friendship with ‘67 a few months back, after joining an online medic group called Closed Casket. His older brother, Gabriel, had deemed the group name “morbid as hell,” but along with most of the world, Gabe doesn’t understand how medical professionals approach death. Losing a patient is always less of a surprise and more of an inevitability, and though they all try their damndest to keep someone breathing long enough to reach the hospital, sometimes their best efforts have little payoff. That’s why Castiel had joined the online group, and why he particularly likes using Signal, since it offers total anonymity. He cann’t afford to complain publicly, since his supervisor Zachariah seems to have a personal vendetta against him. Hannah was the one who had recommended the group to him, who helped craft the username FlyBoy83. He had “met” Medic67 almost immediately, after they both commented on a thread about workplace snacking that devolved into discussing their avid coffee addiction. They had started a private message that day, and hadn’t stopped messaging for nearly six months. Castiel scrolls through now, rereading their earlier conversation from this afternoon:

FlyBoy83 12:07 PM >> { **picture uploaded}**

FlyBoy83 12:08 PM >> **Don’t be angry, but I might have cheated on our diet today…**

Medic67 12:15 PM << **dude**

Medic67 12:15 PM << **are you freaking kidding**

Medic67 12:16 PM << **you’re sending me a pic of the BACONATOR and i’m supposed to keep eating this nasty rabbit food you’re making me eat???**

FlyBoy83 12:20 PM >> **The diet is for your own good. You know SWAT medics have to go through boot camp.**

Medic67 12:21 PM << **one, i haven’t even decided if i’m doing that or not**

Medic67 12:22 PM << **two,** **l’ll have you know i’m in great fucking shape. like you would be jealous**

FlyBoy83 12:45 PM >> **Sorry, I couldn’t type while finishing off that burger. Way too messy. And the onion rings were perfectly greasy and crispy…**

Medic67 12:46 PM << **you are a junk food teasing asshole**

 FlyBoy83 12:47 PM >> **Guilty.**

FlyBoy83 12:48 PM >> **And what do you mean, you don’t want to be a SWAT medic? Why are you dieting for it then?**

Medic67 12:50 PM << **probably because you bullied me into it**  

FlyBoy83 12:51 PM >> **Whatever you have to tell yourself…**  

Medic67 12:52 PM << **seriously though what’s up with breaking the diet today? You’re usually as annoying as my brother about that shit**

FlyBoy83 1:00 PM >> **I’m meeting someone tonight.**

Medic67 1:03 PM << **and that requires junk food??**  

FlyBoy83 1:05 PM >> **I suppose I’m…nervous. I wanted some comfort food.**

Medic67 1:06 PM << **woah man, I get it**

Medic67 1:07 PM << **Wait, like a date thing??**  

FlyBoy83 1:08 PM >> **In a way.**  

Medic67 1:10 PM << **well hot damn**

Medic67 1:11 PM << **about time**

FlyBoy83 1:12 PM >> **What does that mean?**

Medic67 1:13 PM << i **t means you’re basically a monk**

Medic67 1:15 PM << **and ya know, it’s good for you**

FlyBoy83 1:12 PM >> **What’s “good for me”?**

Medic67 1:13 PM << **you know**  

FlyBoy83 1:14 PM >> **Obviously I don’t.**  

Medic67 1:16 PM << **sex, you weirdo**

Medic67 1:16 PM << **it’s the best way to blow off steam for the job**

Medic67 1:16 PM << **better than drinking one too many beers**  

FlyBoy83 1:18 PM >> **Oh, I see.**

Medic67 1:20 PM << **that’s all you’re gonna tell me??**

FlyBoy83 1:21 PM >> **What more do you want to know?**

Medic67 1:21 PM << **what’s she like? your date?**

Medic67 1:23 PM << **or he?**

Medic67 1:25 PM << **no judgment or whatever**

Medic67 1:55 PM << **helllllllo**

Medic67 2:00 PM << **fuck did i put my foot in my mouth or something**

FlyBoy83 4:20 PM >> **No, I’m sorry. I had two calls back to back.**

Medic67 4:24 PM << **phew okay**

Medic67 4:25 PM << **figured you thought I was a nosy dick**

FlyBoy83 4:26 PM >> **I mean, I’m not saying you’re not…**

Medic67 4:27 PM << **ha ha ha. aren’t you hilarious**

Medic67 4:28 PM << **well hey, just a heads up i’ll be offline for a few hours**

Medic67 4:28 PM << **you headin to your date soon?**

FlyBoy83 4:29 PM >> **Yes, I’m getting ready for it right now actually.**

Medic67 4:30 PM << **you feelin nervous still?**

FlyBoy83 4:31 PM >> **I’m more excited now, actually.**

Medic67 4:32 PM << **cool. good luck**

Castiel smiles down at his phone, wondering what his friend would think if he knew that Castiel’s date was actually a scheduled BDSM scene with an extremely attractive man. Something tells him ‘67 wouldn’t be judgmental, especially considering the EMS community as a whole is known to be accepting and LGBTQ-friendly. But the truth could potentially fluster him and make his friend feel awkward, and that’s the last thing Castiel wants. After he finishes reading their messages from the afternoon, he pulls up the message box and types out:

FlyBoy83 7:23 PM >> **How’s your evening going?**

When ‘67 doesn’t immediately start texting back, he finally pulls his car out of its parked position and heads toward the interstate. Despite having an early morning tomorrow, he’s already agreed days ago to meet Gabriel for dinner. His drive is surprisingly short, and he checks his phone at the stoplight, frowning when he sees there’s no reply from ‘67. He manages to find street parking two blocks from the restaurant, and when he opens the outer door, the smell of grilled meat wafts towards him. His stomach growls, and he wonders how shameful it would be to start his diet back _tomorrow._  

“Cassie!” his brother calls from the bar. When Castiel approaches, he sees Gabriel is chatting closely with a petite woman, her light brown hair pulled halfway back. “Here he is,” Gabe announces to the woman, “my hunky, mysterious, saves-human-life-on-a-regular-basis baby bro.”

She looks at Castiel expectantly, as if she’s already received an earful of information about him, and Castiel sighs. “Gabriel—”

“April here is a waitress,” Gabe states proudly, swinging his cocktail around before taking a large gulp. Castiel fights the urge to wince—not only does he hate those sugary drinks his brother downs, but tipsy Gabriel means the chances of him trying to set Castiel up with this woman have increased tenfold. “And she was just telling me how much she likes bees.”

“Bees?” Castiel repeats blankly.

“I love honey,” April says pleasantly, addressing Castiel for the first time. “I hear bees are your…hobby?”

“When I was a child.” Castiel swallows and glares at his brother. “My brother seems to forget that I’m almost thirty, not five.”

“Thirty, smirty,” Gabriel rhymes with a slur. “April doesn’t think you’re old.”

April blushes a little. “No, uh, he’s right. Everyone says thirty is the new twenty.”

Castiel looks down at his feet, feeling awkward for both himself and April. A long beat of silence passes between the trio before April finally smiles uneasily and excuses herself, though not before slipping Castiel her phone number. He thanks her and pockets it, but figures it’ll end up in his garbage by the end of the night. By now Gabriel has finished inhaling his Mai Tai and they grab a corner booth in the dining room, Castiel ordering grilled chicken and veggies and sending the picture of his entree to ‘67.

FlyBoy83 7:55 PM >> **{picture uploaded}**

FlyBoy83 7:56 PM >> **Hopefully you approve of my dinner more than my lunch.**

“Ya know,” Gabriel is saying, chewing with his mouth open, and Castiel drops his phone but keeps it face-up on the table, “you really messed up.”

Castiel squints, spearing a broccoli cutlet. “When?”

“When you didn’t ask April to join us for dinner,” Gabriel finishes, confirming Castiel’s worst fears.

“We’ve talked about this, Gabriel,” Castiel grumbles, his voice low.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe dismisses. “You’re gonna be all ‘stay out of my personal life, Gabriel’ until I find you the perfect woman—or man—to sweep you off your massively huge feet.” He takes a long drag from his next cocktail and grins. “Then it’ll be all ‘thank you, Gabriel, for curing me of my loneliness and making me the happiest I’ve ever been.’”

Castiel just scowls at him, mouth opened to retort, when his phone screen lights up brightly.

Medic67 8:03 PM << **oh yeah, that looks like my dinner**

Medic67 8:03 PM << **down to the depressing ass broccoli**

Castiel chuckles, finding it hard to disagree, and Gabriel eyes him curiously as he starts typing.

FlyBoy83 8:05 PM >> **At least your dinner doesn’t involve your brother butting into your personal life.**

“Come on,” Gabriel says, looking resolved. “Just give me a clue. What are you looking for?”

“In what?” Castiel mutters, though he has a feeling he won’t love the answer.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “In a relationship. Duh.”

When ‘67 doesn’t respond right away, Castiel has no choice but to engage with his brother. He tries to consider Gabriel’s question, but the only image that returns to his mind is…his sub from earlier. He had been watching and wanting that gorgeous man for longer than he’d care to admit. Everything about him had captivated Castiel since the moment their eyes had met across the bar. If they had been anywhere but the Black & Blue Club at the time, he would have approached the handsome stranger, maybe even placed a hand in the curve of his back as he whispered, “What are you drinking, handsome?” He can imagine the man shivering at the words, turned on by the command in Castiel’s voice, and it’s enough to make him wish he _hadn’t_ agreed to dinner with his brother right after a scene. He usually maintains a low hum of arousal after any halfway decent scene, but fucking that magnificient hole as the man whimpered and moaned around the black penis gag in his mouth, coming untouched on Castiel’s cock?

Well, Castiel is already counting down the days until his next appointment. As the dom, he had known a few days ahead of time who he was scening with. Billie had emailed him the man’s updated paperwork, including a headshot and a list of revised kinks and limits, and Castiel’s jaw had dropped while he scanned the profile. His new sub was none other than the man he had been daydreaming about domming for months, and their various likes and kinks were much more similar than he’d initially imagined. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself after only one scene, but they seemed to be the perfect fit. 

“Earth to Castiel,” Gabriel says, intoning his voice like a robot, and Castiel blinks back into self-awareness. His headspace can be a bit scattered after a scene, and he’s hoping now that the post-orgasm cuddling had been enough to soothe his sub tonight. He should check his chart more thoroughly next time…if there _is_ a next time…

“Apologies,” Castiel says, spearing another forkful of vegetables. “I’m just not sure how to answer your question. I can’t explain why I feel drawn to someone—most of the time, it just happens.”

Gabriel seems momentarily appeased by his answer, however vague, and Cas polishes off his grilled chicken and messages back and forth with ‘67.

Medic67 8:07 PM << **ugh, been there man**

Medic67 8:08 PM << **so at the risk of sounding like a snoopy brother myself**

Medic67 8:08 PM << **how was your date?**

FlyBoy83 8:010 PM >> **Good.**

Medic67 8:11 PM << **Good?**

FlyBoy83 8:12 PM >> **Very good.**

FlyBoy83 8:12 PM >> **I’m looking forward to the next one.**  

Medic67 8:13 PM << **woah man, for you that’s like a declaration of love**  

Castiel almost blushes, the curve of his sub’s amazing ass coming to mind, but he clears his throat and changes the subject.

FlyBoy83 8:14 PM >> **How was your night?**

Medic67 8:16 PM << **freaking awesome**

FlyBoy83 8:16 PM >> **Oh?**

Medic67 8:18 PM << **little sore but nothing a little R &R can’t fix**

FlyBoy83 8:19 PM >> **Ah, your brother tire you out again?**

Medic67 8:20 PM << **MY BROTHER?!**  

Medic67 8:21 PM << **wtf**

FlyBoy83 8:21 PM >> **You’re not sore from another intense workout at the gym?**

Medic67 8:22 PM << **ohhh**

Medic67 8:22 PM << **right**

Medic67 8:23 PM << **uh he wasn’t there tonight**

Medic67 8:23 PM << **was more of a private trainer thing**

Medic67 8:23 PM << **dude kicked my ass**

FlyBoy83 8:24 PM >> **Oh, that’s good.**

FlyBoy83 8:25 PM >> **I’m sure you deserved it.**  

Medic67 8:27 PM << **don’t you got a lotta jokes today**

FlyBoy83 8:28 PM >> **I do. Remember you telling me I was hilarious earlier?**

Medic67 8:29 PM << **pressures of the job must be gettin to me**

Medic67 8:27 PM << **I’ve finally lost my mind**

Castiel snorts again, shakes his head and slips his phone into his pocket. Gabriel eyes him steadily, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Sharing secrets with your little penpal?” his brother asks, smirking. “I’m pretty sure you tell him more than you do your own brother.”

Castiel glances up at Gabriel, expression slack and blank.

“That is absolutely true,” he deadpans, and his brother rolls his eyes and asks for the check. Truth is, he tells ‘67 more than he tells most people, maybe even his friends and coworkers. He’s thought several times of asking the man what his name is, or if they can meet up for coffee…but something always stops him. He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship by pushing it too far, forcing them to interact in real life when they work so well as online friends. Besides, ‘67 has never brought it up either or pressured him for more, so why fix what isn’t broken?

After laying down a twenty, he parts ways with his brother, walking down the dimly lit sidewalk and towards his car. Hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, he wonders if he’s too hard on Gabe, too dismissive. He just can’t imagine ever telling anyone in his daily life that he’s fully integrated into the BDSM lifestyle, and that’s why he can’t see himself dating any of the men or women they’ve tried to set him up with. And he can’t pursue things with someone from the club, particularly a stunning sub like the one he enjoyed tonight, because the rejection would be too much. Besides, just because they connect on a sexual level doesn’t mean they’ll have anything else in common. 

Still, in his apartment later as he strips and showers, looking forward to grabbing a few hours of sleep before tomorrow’s shift, he slicks his palm down with shampoo and takes himself in hand. He moans and sighs, already mapping out his next scene with his precious little toy, imagining his tongue buried into the wet heat of his sloppy hole. When Castiel finally comes with a half-broken sob, he imagines his sub coming at the same time, writhing and shaking and already begging for more.

When he gets out of the shower, still slightly damp with a towel slung around his hips, he has one unread message: 

Medic67 10:22 PM << **Night, talk to ya tomorrow**

Castiel smiles, thinking of what a wonderful day it’s been thanks to his new sub and his online best friend, and replies:

FlyBoy83 10:28 PM >> **Looking forward to it.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Humiliation kink, praise kink, sex toys, gag, fingering, anal sex
> 
> Thoughts on the first chapter? Drop a comment below!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends CB here!  
> Can I just say how amazing all you guys are?? It was so much fun getting to read all your comments you lovely kinky people you. Enjoy round two!  
> KINK TAGS IN END NOTES
> 
> PS: if anyone wants to join in on the game our beta readers played, you can tell us in the comments who you think is writing which part, see if you can tell ;)

“Man, you got nailed,” Dean snorts, looking at a very pissed off Jo, who’s pulling her shirt away from her body.

“Yuck, it’s everywhere,” she groans.

“I told you to stand back, it was a gusher.” He shakes his head, checking his bag to make sure he got everything.

“I _did_ stand back, the truck is only so big.” She scowls at him now.

“Hey, at least it was the last call.” He pats her on the dry shoulder, the one not covered in blood.

“I think it got in my hair,” she whines. It really isn’t that much, it just sprayed a lot. They got the bleeding under control pretty quickly, but not before Jo’s shirt got covered.

Dean’s phone buzzes as he tugs it out of his pocket to see a message from FlyBoy.

FlyBoy83 5:02 PM << **Did you know that the only way to die from vitamin D poisoning is to eat polar bear liver?**

Medic67 5:03 PM >> **so scratch polar bear liver off the diet?**

Medic67 5:03 PM >> **and turn off national geographic already**

FlyBoy83 5:03 PM << **I am waiting for the special program on changing honey bee populations.**

Medic67 5:03 PM >> **Dude you need to get out more**

He shakes his head. FlyBoy is such a nerd sometimes, but it’s kinda one of his better qualities.

“Who you smiling at? Your chat buddy?” Jo asks, heading to her locker.

“None of your beeswax.”

“Beeswax…how old are you?” She laughs, and he sticks his tongue out at her. “Say, you coming to the Roadhouse for drinks tonight?”

“Nah, I have a date with my couch and Netflix. Plus I took the shift tomorrow night that Kevin just put up on the board.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” she sighs, staring at her bloody shirt.

“Night Carrie!” He calls after her, and she flips him off on her way out. He grabs his own bag and heads for the parking lot. He smiles at the sight of his car, the sleek black ‘67 Impala is his Baby and sliding into her is like coming home. The engine roars to life as he looks back at his phone.

FlyBoy83 5:08 PM << **I get out plenty, I’ll have you know. In fact, I have plans for Thursday night.**

Medic67 5:09 PM >> **same person? look at you heading into second date territory**

FlyBoy83 5:09 PM << **Yes, actually…if they accept my invitation that is.**

Medic67 5:09 PM >> **Hope you picked out nice stationary, you know the font you pick matters**

FlyBoy83 5:11 PM << **Ha. Ha.**

FlyBoy83 5:12 PM << **A little effort never hurt, you know.**

FlyBoy83 5:12 PM << **What are you up to?**

Medic67 5:13 PM >> **just off my shift heading home**

Medic67 5:13 PM >> **had an arterial bleed today, blood everywhere it was like The Shining.**

FlyBoy83 5:14 PM << **Hope you ducked.**

Medic67 5:14 PM >> **Yup got off clean, can’t say the same for my partner**

FlyBoy83 5:14 PM << **Swear we should buy stock in stain remover at this point.**

Medic67 5:14 PM >> **No joke. Ok getting in my car talk later**

Dean drives home the back way, avoiding most of the rush hour traffic before he pulls up to his apartment. He seriously hopes Sam has some idea for dinner because he’s starving and past the point of making any more decisions for the day. The apartment he shares with his brother is small and they only have one bathroom, but the layout of rooms on opposing sides of the living room offers them enough privacy. He likes the location, with the apartment sitting above a bookstore. It’s surprisingly quiet for being on a busy street. Rent in the Boston area can be outrageous, and until one of them settles down with someone, it just makes sense to have a roommate. He tosses his keys in the bowl and can hear his brother moving around in the kitchen.

“Hey Dean,” Sam calls to him, stirring a pot of something.

“God, I hope that’s dinner. I’m starved.” He peeks in at the pot and Sam elbows him out of the way.

“Back off, it’s not ready yet. Why don’t you grab us a beer?”

Dean can’t argue with that logic and goes to grab two Miller Lights from the fridge, sighing and missing his El Sol. He pops the cap off Sam’s beer and hands it to him, trying to steal a glance at the pan he’s cooking in. The food is unidentifiable to him, so he figures it's probably some healthy superfood or some shit Sam read about in _Men’s Health_. He never should have told his little brother that he was trying to get in shape for the Swat Medic boot camp. He settles down at the kitchen table, flipping through the junk mail.

After a while, Sam slides a plate in front of him.

“Bon appétit!” Sam declares, sitting across from him.

“What is it?” He can’t help but curl his nose a little. “Is that…kale?”

“It’s a quinoa power bowl. You’ve got chicken, black beans, kale, pomegranate seeds, avocado, and a host of other stuff, and—stop making that face!” Sam grumbles, as Dean sniffs the plate and pokes at it. “Don’t be a child, just eat it.”

“I am a full grown man who needs a grown-up’s dinner, not this hipster foraging crap,” he mutters, taking a bite of the concoction. “Tastes like bird food.”

“I won’t keep cooking for you if you’re gonna bitch about it,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

Dean lets out a longer-than-necessary sigh. “Thank you for cooking, Sam…now maybe next time we can have something without kale in it.” He says the last bit under his breath, but Sam still shoots him a death glare. Dean snaps a picture of his plate and sends it off to FlyBoy.

Medic67 6:12 PM >> **{picture uploaded}**

Medic67 6:12 PM >> **This is bird food, not dinner >:(**

FlyBoy83 6:13 PM << **If you sprout feathers, do let me know.**

FlyBoy83 6:14 PM << **Maybe you can be the first flight medic who doesn’t need a helicopter.**

Medic67 6:16 PM >> **Even with a full set of wings I would keep my feet firmly planted on the ground**

“—can’t believe this case is even going to trial, right?” Dean looks up at Sam and realizes he had been talking.

“Uh, yeah, it’s totally nuts,” he nods.

“So I’m trying to file for a dismissal, but the judge is a big fan of the DA, so I don’t know if he’ll go for it.”

Dean listens to Sam’s day, then tells him about the calls from his shift. They both decide to have a chill night at home on the couch. Dean sinks in deep, pulling up his phone and messaging with FlyBoy as they watch reruns of _MASH_.

Medic67 7:36 PM >> **got my brother to watch MASH with me finally**

FlyBoy83 7:48 PM << **Well, that is superior to Dr. Sexy at least.**

Medic67 7:53 PM >> **Dr. Sexy is hot as fuck and you know it**

Dean freezes a moment after the message is sent. He hadn’t really told FlyBoy that he was bi—not that he was in the closet or anything, but it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet. His heart decides to crawl up in his throat, watching the little writing dots on the screen.

FlyBoy83 8:06 PM << **Not a fan of the dark hair myself, though the green eyed ortho surgeon isn’t hard on the eyes.**

Holy fuck, FlyBoy likes guys! Well. he might like guys…you can appreciate someone being hot without wanting to fuck them. Still, Dean doesn’t know why the idea that his online buddy might be gay too made him feel so…happy?

Medic67 8:07 PM >> **Knew you watched it!**

FlyBoy83 8:09 PM << **I will not, and cannot, confirm nor deny.**

Medic67 8:07 PM >> **Sometimes my old partner and I used to do a drinking game with it, just take a shot everytime someone yelled “stat” or had sex in a storage closet, but we got too drunk too fast**

FlyBoy83 8:10 PM << **I can imagine you barely make it past one episode.**

He startles when his phone rings and he sees Black & Blue Club pop up. He bolts to his room to take the call, shutting the door on his nosy-looking brother.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dean,” Pam answers warmly, with a soft music pulsing in the background.

“Did you hear back?” He feels a rush of excitement.

“You weren’t really nervous, were you? You’re one hell of sub—he’d be lucky to have you. And yes, he did make a proposal for you, setting up a scene with you every two weeks. He has a box here for you. I can send it over tomorrow if that works for you?”

“Uh, hell yes, that works for me.” He figures Sam will be out during the day and he can get the package before he gets home. “What’s in it?”

“No idea, sugar. It’s for you, not me,” she laughs softly, “but I did tell him you had an unpredictable work schedule and so does he, so if you both give me your availability I can get you guys set up on days that work best for you.”

“You’re the best, Pam.” He grins, just thinking about getting to have another scene with that voice and those eyes.

“Don’t I know it. I have you down for next week, on Thursday night?”

“That works.”

“Great! Well, I won’t be working, but you can check in with Billie and she'll get you all set up. You can always call if you need me.”

“Thanks, Pam.”

“Welcome, handsome. Hope he fucks your brains out,” she teases.

“Me too.” He laughs before hanging up.

He gives Sam some excuse of being tired and heads to bed early. As he crawls under the sheets he can’t help but snake his hand down into his boxer briefs and take himself in hand. He rolls his thumb over the head and sighs at the sensation. He imagines being back in that room, spread bare and exposed. The way his dom stalks toward him with lust-filled eyes. The whimpers of need he lets out and the stinging pain of a twist to his nipple, his other hand rising to fill the fantasy. He strokes and thrusts up against his hand, breathing shallow and heavy as he tries to put himself back there. He wants to be owned by this man, he wants to give everything up to him, knowing he’ll be taken care of. Wanting all that desire and lust for himself, bottling up that praise and approval to soothe his lonely heart. It’s only a few more quick thrusts and he’s coming in his briefs, making an utter debauched mess of himself. He almost wishes he could take a picture of his come soaked briefs and send it to his dom… _his_ dom. the thought makes him smile.

He cleans up and passes out, waking to bright light streaming in through the window. He curses, having forgotten to pull the light blocking curtain closed. He stumbles into the kitchen, pulling on a pair of sweats, and decides on the breakfast of champions—bacon and coffee—when there’s a knock at the door. He goes to answer, carding fingers through his messy hair, and opens it to see a box on his doorstep. Its black stained wood with a green silk bow tied around it, with a white card tucked under the bow. His heart in his throat, he snatches up the box and brings it to the couch, pulling out the note. It’s a simple card, with just a black wing on the front of it and long note written inside.

_Dearest Pet,_

_I hope this finds you well. I enjoyed our time together very much, you were so pliant and responsive, it made me very happy. I’d love for you to be mine, to submit to me and let me care for you, and fulfill all of your dirtiest, darkest desires. If you're agreeable, I’d like us to have a discussion and make a wish list together before our next scene. All I ask from you is honesty about what you want most. Please take some time to think it through before we meet, and bring me no less than five kinks you have interest in exploring, and at least two you have never done before. If you accept this offer, then I have one simple request: that you wear the gift in the box until our next meeting. I want all of your pleasure…every… last…drop._

_Yours,_

_Master_

Dean can’t help the shiver that runs through him, and his hands tremble a bit as he struggles with the damn bow, finally grabbing a pocket knife and cutting the thing open before pulling off the lid. He sees metal rings of some kind. He reaches in tentatively and pulls out the contraption. It’s cool and surprisingly lightweight. It’s a motherfucking cock cage…his dom sent him a cock cage. Holy fuck. He groans, pressing a hand to the member in question to keep it down. On his updated survey he submitted with Pam, he’d listed orgasm delay and denial as a new kink. He’d worn cock rings during scenes before but never, _never_ a cage for an extended period. He flushes pink, looking around as if he expects Sam to come home and catch him any minute. There’s a small card with what look like care instructions, and a note about its ability to be used for long stretches of time. Could he really do that? Could he really give that much control to someone? He didn’t even know the man’s name yet.

Frowning at it, he concludes that the decision can’t be made without coffee. He brews a pot and stands in the kitchen, clutching his mug and staring at the object in question—sitting innocently on the coffee table now. _Nut up Winchester_ , he scolds himself, and then snorts a laugh. Nut up indeed.

He grabs the cage, bringing it to the bathroom and reading the instructions a few times through. He’s gone soft again, and can’t risk thinking about what he’s going to do or he’ll get rock hard again. He pulls his briefs and pants down just below his ass, taking his cock in hand. He takes a few deep breaths before slowly sliding on the silver rings. The cool sensation tickles the sensitive skin and he holds back a small gasp as it finally slides into place. There’s a ring that locks it tightly around the back of his balls, and with a quiet _snick_ sound the cage is on.

He turns to look at himself in the mirror, shiny silver winking back at him from between his thighs. It’s more comfortable than he imagined and he swings his hips a little, wiggling his ass. He’s caged now, and more than just physically, he’s giving over his pleasure to someone else. It feels intense, it feels incredibly hot, and surprisingly, he feels overwhelming secure. It’s a muddled mix of emotions and he can’t begin to unpack them all, just settles on the most important fact…that he likes it. He feels his cock try to harden against the cage and whines a little as he swells against the unforgiving metal. He grips the porcelain sink, feeling the surge of pleasure just at the fucking thought of the control his dom has over him without even being there. He closes his eyes and counts in his head till he finally feels his cock start to relax again. If it feels like that every time he gets hard, it was going to be a very long week indeed. But Dean is nothing if not determined, and he is going to be a very good boy.

***

Castiel arrives a half-hour early, walking the perimeter of the play room. Tonight they’ve been placed in one of the smaller rooms at the B&B, but he doesn’t mind—he arrived ahead of time, as always, placing his toys and props just where he wants them. He requested a single chair in the corner, but incidentally, Billie brought him two instead. He shook his head at her in the doorway, handing the second one back and explaining, “He won’t be sitting…in a _chair_.” Billie just grinned, apologizing for the mixup and returning to the front desk. Castiel lights a small candle and breathes in and out, clearing his mind.

He enjoys this time alone before a scene to put everything in order, to fully embrace the dominant side of his personality and let it overtake him. Usually he has to keep this aspect of himself at bay, but in this controlled space with his gorgeous new sub waiting to join him, he can follow that part of himself down the rabbit hole and see where it leads them.

And what a new sub he is… Gorgeous body, vibrant green eyes, a willingness to obey Castiel, to please his master. He pictures his new toy sitting in the waiting room, the cock cage secure around his throbbing, overly sensitive dick. Castiel rubs a hand against the front of his trousers, trying not to get an erection just from the thought. It’s difficult, though, just knowing he’s minutes away from finally seeing _him_ again. They have the room reserved for two hours, which is plenty for today. One day, though, he’d like to schedule a half-day or even a full-day session, to see how far he can really tear down and build up the beautifully submissive man, the slave to his mercy…

Castiel pulls his outfit off the hanger, the dark suit and white button-up and trench-coat, and trades in his casual jeans for the formal getup. He’s has been domming for almost three years now, and when an arrangement extends beyond a session or two, he’s found it’s good for longevity to adopt a sort of character facade. This became especially important during his first year as a dom, when an eager sub named Becky took their scenes too far and became obsessed with him. They had exchanged first names after the initial scene, which had seemed harmless at the time…but “Castiel” is such an uncommon name that it wasn’t difficult for her to track him down and begin stalking him at work. After that whole debacle, Billie had advised him to keep a stricter distance with his play partners—never revealing any identifying information, like names or addresses or occupations.

That had been difficult for him at first, considering how emotions are often entwined with vanilla sex, so a dom/sub dynamic is even more charged and intimate. But in the end, Billie had been right—Castiel and his subs both seemed to enjoy it more when he kept the situation highly controlled. And being in charge of all these little details—not just his partner’s sexual pleasure, but how their relationship progresses—gives Castiel a buzz of excitement, even now.

Without a mirror to check, he’s almost sure he’s knotted his tie backwards…but no matter. He’s spent the past few weeks deciding what kind of persona he wants to present with his new toy. With long-term subs, he’s had a few he’s cycled through over the years: uptight outdoorsman, usually barefoot and shirtless underneath a flannel; athlete, making his subs sweat and discovering unique ways to incorporate jockstraps and cleats. But his most frequent character is the corporate businessman, aka the holy tax accountant, a mindset that makes him feel most dominant. This week, he considered incorporating a doctor roleplay in for his new sub, but it felt too close to his actual profession. He wants to keep this sub happy and engaged and eager to return—more than any other he’s ever been with—while preserving enough distance to keep their identities private. So the guise of the busy, aloof, and relentless businessman it’ll be.

When he’s finally dressed, he checks his cellphone one final time, making sure there aren’t any important messages waiting for him. The usual work group text is blowing up, and there’s another text from Gabriel. His constant companion, Medic67, informed him a while ago that he’d be offline tonight. They seem to have similar schedules, which works out perfectly, because if they go more than a few hours without chatting…well, Cas ends up missing his best friend. He powers off his phone, tucks it in a drawer in the cabinet along with his street clothes, and when the watch on his wrist says exactly five o’clock, he strides over to the panel near the door and presses the green button.

Play time.

He returns to his chair afterwards, his steps measured, and flips open his leather portfolio. It was a birthday gift from a relative, and he’s pretty sure he’s never used it before, but he’s ready to pull out all the stops for his new sub. He’s scribbling away on a legal pad, flipping through a collection of old W-2s in a way that makes him look preoccupied, when he hears the door crack open. His body begins to thrum with adrenaline.

His new toy is here, ready and waiting.

“Strip,” he commands, eyes not leaving his papers. “Then come and kneel at my feet.”

He keeps writing, rearranging stray scraps of paper, as his pet becomes unclothed. Castiel allows himself one quick, full look, and can feel himself grow hard instantly. The man has his back slightly turned, his shirt and shoes already off, and the curve of his back takes Cas’ breath away. But his brain borderline short-circuits when the Levi’s are unbuttoned down to his ankles, and he sees his sub is wearing a pair of light blue, form-fitting boyshorts with lace. They’re tight, and the man’s dick is visible through the cotton. The dom swallows thickly. He doesn’t remember _this_ being mentioned in his sub’s updated survey of kinks, but he’s certainly not upset at this development. Jeans off with only the panties remaining, Castiel rumbles, “Leave those on.”

He hopes his voice isn’t shaking already, but good god, it’s difficult to sustain a clear head when all his fantasies are coming true. He stares at his stunning pet as he walks over, the tight and muscular abs and arms, the trim waist, the metal of the cock cage thick and noticeable through the thin material of his panties. The man’s face seems neutral but excited and as he kneels at Castiel’s feet, but he winces, adjusting himself. Castiel makes him wait nearly five full minutes, as he tosses through his papers and looks busy, and he can feel his sub getting needier and more impatient by the second. _Interesting_ , Castiel thinks, observing the man, _he’s very stubborn but still enjoys taking orders. Did he have doubts about the cock cage, but still followed through?_

“Tell me,” Castiel begins airly, still looking down at the papers in his lap, “have you been a good boy for me this week?”

“Yes, Master.” His voice is steady, but his sub is getting antsy, shifting his thighs around in anticipation.

“So you enjoyed your gift?” Cas weaves his free hand into the man’s hair, petting him softly.

The pause is longer now, hesitant. “Yes, Master.”

Castiel tightens his grip, the rush of sudden pain making the man whine pleasantly. “Don’t lie to me, slut. Not if you want to be my good boy.”

“It was hard, Master,” the sub admits, his voice shaking. Castiel smooths his hand softly, scratching gently at the man’s scalp and easing away the dull throb.

“Why?” Castiel tries to keep his voice level, tone cool and disinterested.

“I’ve never done anything like that before.” The man is responding wonderfully to his touch, the tension in his shoulders falling away, and Castiel revels in it. He wants to make his pet feel good, inside and out.

“And my good boy never took it off? For seven days?”

“No, Master.” His sub has closed his eyes, his breathing getting heavier.

“Did it fit properly?” Castiel tries to make these questions sound as suggestive as possible, but he had to guess at the sizing from memory—his pet’s dick was slightly above average, but not quite as big as Castiel, and he wants to make sure his toy was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as intended.

“Yes, Master.”

“Did you take good care of it?” He had included some cleaning and care instructions, just in case, which he’s glad he thought of. His sweet little pet is totally new to this form of pleasure. “I want my toy to treat his toys nicely.”

“I did, Master. Cleaned it everyday.”

Good. Now that he knows his pet’s been behaving, he can get down to the nitty gritty…

“Did it make you hard?” Castiel’s eyes are totally off his papers now, watching the front tent of his sub’s panties, the metal spiral of the cock cage calling to him. “Being denied pleasure? Being at my mercy?”

“Yes,” the sub confesses, voice quivering and leaning into Castiel’s hand. “Yes, Master.”

“Did you imagine this moment?” He licks his lips, wanting to move those panties away, but keeps his composure. “Did you imagine all the filthy ways I’m going to make you come?”

His toy whimpers and nods his head, and when it becomes clear he’s not going to answer properly, Castiel pulls him sharply by the hair again, his sub yelping in surprise, eyeing him fully for the time.

“You answer your Master when he asks you a question,” he reprimands tersely. “If I don’t want you to speak, I’ll tell you.”

“Y-yes, I imagined all the ways you would make me come.” He’s panting now, whining and shifting, his desperate eyes staring up at Castiel, pupils blown wide. “Please Master, please…”

He’s growing hard right now—Castiel can see the bulge of the cage keeping his erection down. “I don’t know that you’ve earned that just yet, slut. You seem entirely too coherent to need to come already.”

“Master…” His sub’s voice is breaking, the words a frantic whine. “Master, please…”

“Tell me what you’re not telling me,” Castiel says coolly, following a hunch to see if he’s right. “Master doesn’t like when you keep secrets.” He leans down, his lips brushing the other man’s ear, as he whispers, “If you want to be my good boy, you’ll tell me.”

The sub shudders. “It was…”

Cas sits back into his chair, no longer putting any hands on his pet. His honesty will be rewarded with touch. “Yes?”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I thought about it all the time, I-I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t go work out. I couldn’t sleep on my stomach because the cage chafed a little, and I had dreams about you, so many dreams, and woke up so hard, and it hurt so bad and felt so good but I couldn’t get any relief—” The man is shaking now, sobbing a little, and Castiel places a soothing hand between his shoulder blades. “I just wanna come Master, please, _please_ let me come.”

Castiel shushes the man softly, caressing his back. “My boy was very good, then, keeping it on all seven days.” He lifts his chin up, their eyes meeting. There are rolling tears in his pet’s eyes and Castiel regards him with pride. “I’m proud of you, pet. You’ve made me pleased.”

He lets out a sob, as if the intensity of his situation is hitting him suddenly. Castiel wonders if he’s gone too far too quickly—his new sub is a masochist, that was self-proclaimed on his chart. Pain doesn’t deter his arousal, but emphasizes it, keeps it simmering. But perhaps he didn’t have enough direction from his dom on how to rise to this particular challenge.

“Did you take any cold showers or use any ice packs?” Castiel asks gently, and his pet just shakes his head. “Use your words,” he reminds him.

“N-no, Master, I’m sorry,” he cries.

Castiel cups both sides of his cheeks. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Your obedience, especially when things have been difficult for you, makes me very happy.” That’s putting it lightly…Castiel’s erection is rock hard at the sight of his docile toy coming undone at his feet. He shuts his portfolio and stands, his pet watching him with hopeful eyes from his position on the floor. He walks over the inversion table, checking the axis for full tightness, and calls, “Come here, pet.”

The sub stands next to him immediately, Castiel’s heart beating out his chest. His pet keeps his eyes fixated on the floor, a true sign of submission, and it makes Castiel ache to come all over his sub’s stunning face. But this is about his pet being rewarded and achieving true subspace. Even so, Cas is still human, and he can’t help but run his hands on the outside of the panties, a shiver running through his sub. “These are beautiful. You’re a beautiful little slut, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Master.”

“Do you wear panties often, or are you just trying to entice your dom?”

Castiel catches a sparkle of mischief in his eye when he sub whispers, “Both, Master.”

Cas leans in, his voice a rough and heated rumble. “One day I will bury my face into your gorgeous panties, make them wet with my mouth, until your cock aches and you scream for release.” His sub moans, sounding in utter agony, and Castiel commands, “But for tonight, take them off and join me at the table.”

Even in his distressed state, his sub follows orders wonderfully. In less than a minute he’s fully nude, apart from the cage, and Castiel admires every inch of uncovered skin. “You are delicious, toy,” he breathes, running a hand from the man’s abs and hips and ass. “I believe I’ll taste you tonight.”

His sub moans outrageously, his erection held snugly in the cock cage, and Castiel grins wickedly. Yes, this might’ve been an intense experiment for his pet, but he’ll make sure the outcome is more than worth it. It takes a moment to situate him properly on the table, leaned upright to begin. “Can you hold onto the straps yourself, or would you like to be tied in?”

His sub is trembling with anticipation. “I-I don’t know.”

“Pet, when it comes to your safety, I need you to communicate. I cannot make that decision for you.”

“Tie me in,” the man begs, as if he doesn’t trust himself enough to keep a firm grip on the strap, and Castiel obliges instantly, securing both wrists.

“You’re completely safe,” he says, sensing that his sub might need some reassurance. “What’s your safeword?”

“Impala, Master,” he breathes, and Castiel feels better knowing his toy hasn’t completely let himself go, not _yet_. Strapped in tight, he begins to crank the table backwards.

“You’ll feel the blood rushing to your head,” Castiel says, his sub panting heavily the closer he comes to being upside down. “Eventually you’ll feel light and weightless. But if you start to feel nauseous or dizzy, you’ll tell your Master. Won’t you?”

“Yes, Master.” His breathing is so labored now, Castiel wonders how long he’ll last once the cage comes off. He takes a step back, admiring his toy, and rubs the outside of his slacks. He’s hard, so incredibly hard, and he examines the space logistically, wondering if it would be possible to…

He steps behind the equipment, modifying the height of the table until it’s about a foot off the ground. Then he puts his sub’s feet in the stirrups and loosening the safety pen. He spreads his leg in order to gain better access to his cock, and his sub whimpers at being splayed out so vulnerably.

“My boy is so good,” Castiel coos, coming back around and reassessing the logistics of the scene. _Yes_ , he thinks, _yes, this will work beautifully._ “I’m going to reward you, toy. I’m going to give you my cock and my mouth at the same time.”

“Oh, Master…” He sub pulls against the restraints, writhing. “Please, please.”

“My little cockslut loves that, doesn’t he?” Castiel undoes his buckle, the sound of the metal and leather loud in the otherwise quiet room, and his sub breathes and moans and waits. It’s a magnificent sight and Castiel could come just from this alone. He’s judged the height perfectly, and his cock is level with his sub’s lips, his own mouth within licking distance of his sub’s dick. His pulse is racing, eager to finally get his pet off.

“What do you want most, slut? My mouth or my cock?”

“Please, Master…” The man is bordering on incoherence and Castiel has barely even touched him. What a stunning submissive—truly a gift.

“I am a merciful Master, but I don’t appreciate my questions going unanswered,” Castiel says sternly. “What do you want most?”

Considering the man has been wearing a cock cage for a week, Cas expects him to most want to receive oral rather than give it. Which is why it surprises him when his sub bawls, “Your cock! Please Master, give me your cock.”

“Should’ve known what a cockslut like you would want.” Castiel reaches inside his boxers, pumping himself, the precome making his hand glide. “Do you want me to fuck your mouth, toy?”

“ _Please_ …” The word is almost unrecognizable at this point, sounding more like a sob.

“Since you begged so beautifully, you gorgeous, cocking-suck whore…” Trousers and boxers at his ankles, he angles down and stuffs his sub’s mouth full of cock. The man moans around the thick girth of it, breathing through his nose as Castiel fucks deep and rough. Though he has less control over his movements, the hot, wet heat of his pet’s mouth makes Castiel feel energized and dizzy with arousal.

“Your mouth is made to be fucked into.” The man preens under the attention, so Castiel continues thrusting into his mouth and praising him to the point of humiliation. “Such gorgeous, whore lips.”

The cock cage is still on and Castiel can tell it’s getting just shy of too painful. Not to mention, he secretly can’t wait to taste his pet’s gorgeous cock. He pulls out minutely, but his sub is licking the head, spit dribbling out of the corners of his mouth and running down his face, and it’s such a debauched sight that he moans. As a dom, Cas knows when a soft or a heavy hand is needed, and reaching forward to remove the cock cage is certainly a time when his nimble, skilled medic hands come in handy. His sub is thrashing beneath him, and Castiel ends up pulling his cock out from the man’s mouth, a precaution in case he grinds his teeth with intensity. Once the cage finally off and the dom has set the toy gingerly at their feet, he stands back up to inspect his sub’s dick—red and erect, weeping precome, a little puffy and angry looking.

Castiel lines his dick back into the man’s mouth, though he’s less worried about his own erection now and more concerned with the explosive orgasm his pet is on the brink of having. He gives a slow stroke to start, nothing noteworthy, but the man keens, back arching off the table.

“My perfect, needy little slut.” He licks a gentle stripe from base to tip and the sub pants heavily, his moans vibrating the head of Castiel’s dick and distracting him immensely. He kisses and licks his way up and down the shaft, and when his sub has just grown accustomed to that amount of attention on his sensitive dick, he wets his lips and takes the head into his mouth. It’s difficult from this angle to do his usual moves, but simply sucking with his mouth, gliding along the base with his right hand, and fondling his sub’s balls with his left, seems to be more than sufficient. It takes less than two minutes before his pet is shouting around his mouthful of cock, and Castiel pulls off just in time, come hitting his chin and running down the sub’s thighs and towards his stomach. He’s crying again, his release overpowering and making him tremble. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth agape, body limp and unmoving, and this is usually how Cas can tell his partner has reached true subspace.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers, running gentle fingers all over the man’s body, from ankle to collarbones, touching him everywhere. Before the come begins to cool, he wipes it from his face, then gathers a larger amount from his sub’s abdomen and covers his cock with it.

“I told you you’re delicious, but I think you ought to taste yourself.” He shoves his come-covered cock into his pet’s open mouth and the man stirs, moaning around the intrusion, the obscenity of being fed his own come as it slides off Castiel’s dick. “My little cockslut loves this, doesn’t he?”

The sub answers with a wet, flat tongue around the head and an outrageous, reverberating moan, and Cas is very close to coming. He pulls out just as he’s on the brink, knowing they have time for a bit more playing before the necessary aftercare. His pet whines when the cock leaves his mouth, licking his lips and searching for it, and Castiel has no clue what sort of deal he made with the devil, because this man is the perfect, cock-obsessed submissive.

But Cas has to focus now on his pet’s well-being, and between the obvious subspace and the upside down position he’s in, he doesn’t want him to end up feeling overwhelmed. He slips his trousers and boxers back over his erection, then cranks the axis until the table is lying horizontal and flat, retrieving the rest of their toys for the day. He had anticipated playing more heatedly with his sub’s desire for pain, but considering the immense challenge that the cock cage was, he decides to go a little easier on him.

“I’m going to blindfold you, toy.” It’s black and leather, completely light-cancelling, and his toy whispers, “Please, Master.”

He seems to not only like it, but _need_ it, so Castiel adjusts his plan again. He retrieves the buzzer they used last time, bends over to locate his toy’s panties, and commands, “Open up, slut,” before stuffing them into the space of his open mouth, tucking the buzzer into his hand and whispering, “If you need to safeword, use the buzzer.”

The sub’s body has relaxed fully onto the table now. It’s a gorgeous view for Castiel—watching someone he lusts after so greatly put all their trust, all their needs, into his hands. “Can you taste your own precome, slut? Are you getting the cotton all soaked and wet?” Castiel goads, his hands brushing the man’s skin everywhere, and his pet whimpers.

They have forty-five minutes left according to Castiel’s watch, so he arranges some sensation play. For a few minutes he alternates between drips of hot candle wax and the brush of a feather toy, keeping him both on-edge and soothed, before finally bringing out a small leather whip. The strips of leather swipe gently across his skin, before Castiel arcs it sharply and smacks him over and over again. His sub responds beautifully, as he seems to always do, whining and whimpering and sinking into the table, giving Castiel total control. The flogging is particularly effective in renewing his pet’s erection, and after a few impactful hits that will surely leave the faintest of brushes, Castiel lubes his hand and strokes his pet’s cock with a frantic hand, wanting to shock him with a sudden onslaught of pleasure. It works well, as his pet is twisting and struggling against his tied wrists. He comes a second time with a shudder and a cry, and Castiel can’t stop himself, he drops his pants again and lubes his own hand up. He circles Dean’s head, removing the panties from his mouth as he jacks himself steadily.

“My good boy has done well today,” he murmurs lowly, “I believe he deserves to taste my come.”

“Please, Master, please…”

“Tell me,” Castiel demands, feeling on the brink as his balls begin to draw up, the electricity growing in his lower belly. “Tell me you want my come, my good boy, my best boy.”

“I want your come, please Master, let me taste you, please—”

Castiel takes a step forward, the head of his dick brushing his toy’s lips, and then he’s coming all over his lips and chin. The sub licks it away lewdly, and Castiel decides to join him, reaching down and chasing the man’s tongue with his own until they’re kissing deeply. Castiel feels so contented, so complete, that he continues kissing him between undoing the straps, lowering the table, and wiping the come from his thighs and stomach and chin. He reaches his arms out and his pet falls into them graciously, and Castiel kisses his neck, lowering them to the bed for their fifteen minutes of aftercare. His mouth begins to suck too intentionally on a tender spot on the man’s neck, and he remembers that hickies weren’t on his sub’s list of kinks, so he pulls away regrettably.

“Keep going…Master…please,” the sub slurs, and Castiel chuckles.

“Don’t tempt me, pet,” he whispers, pulling the man to his chest. “Your list did not include hickies or any visible marks. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh.” The sub sounds almost pouty about this revelation, as if he’s pissed off at his past-self for setting such a rule, and Castiel smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, maybe there are non-visible places you can leave them…”

“Noted,” Castiel rumbles, spotting a stretch of stunning skin on his inner thigh that would be particular tantalizing. The man sighs, sinking further into his chest. Castiel reaches over to the side table, deciding between a small bottled juice and water, and retrieves the juice.

“Did my pet enjoy thinking of me all week?”

“I did, Master.” Castiel tilts the juice into his part lips, watching him drink dutifully.

“What _is_ that?” his sub asks curiously, licking his lips, and it’s such an adorable sight that Castiel wonders if he’s briefly glimpsing the man behind the sub.

“Mango juice,” Castiel answers, not bothering to correct his pet for not addressing him properly. This is aftercare, which is more about being whatever his sub wants or needs. “Do you like it?”

“It’s sweet,” his pet grins, then frowns slightly. “It’s probably not on my diet though,” he adds, grumbling, and Castiel can’t help but laugh. He sounds so displeased by the thought of a diet, it reminds him of his best friend, Medic67.

“I don’t see a need for one of those in your case,” he says honestly, eyes openly admiring every inch of the man’s nakedness, “but since we’ll be together for the foreseeable future, just leave your dietary restrictions with Pamela, and I’ll make sure future snacks and drinks are to your liking.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles sleepily, closing his eyes, adding in a “Master,” almost as an afterthought. Castiel just holds him, enjoying the warmth and intimacy, but all too soon their time is up. His pet begins to leave and dress first, as is custom, since being left by a dom can sometimes trigger subdrop. Before he’s clothed, though, Castiel whispers in his ear, “I have an assignment for you…until I see you again.” His sub’s eyes are wide and waiting, and he nods, so Castiel continues, “Before you try and touch yourself, I want you to check the weather.”

He looks rightfully confused, so Castiel grabs a slip of folded paper from his portfolio and slides into the man’s palm. “You may not have noticed, but our weather pattern for the next two weeks is quite…varied. Boston in the spring is unpredictable. So every night in bed, or every morning in the shower, whenever and wherever you have the urge to come, check the temperature outside. I’ve written down instructions for you.”

Eyes wide, the man opens the sheet of paper:

_30º or below — don’t come_

_30º  to 40º —  come_

_40º  to 50º —  don’t come_

_50º and above — come_

“Do you agree to these terms?” Castiel keeps his voice level, but he can already see a flush spreading across his pet’s chest, his hands trembling.

“So, uh,” the green-eyed beauty scratches his head, “can I still jerk off? I just can’t come?”

Castiel grins. Edging, orgasm denial… His pet is trying to make things difficult for himself. Excellent. “Yes, you may.”

“Thank you, Master,” he whispers. They stare at each other openly, longingly, before he finally dresses again. He goes commando, stuffing the damp panties into his back pocket, Castiel’s paper instructions in the other.

“Don’t forget your toy, Toy,” Castiel reminds him evenly, “it sounds like you might need it.” The sub’s cheeks flush a beautiful pink as he reaches down for the cock cage and stuffs it in his open bag. He exits the room with his head down, though his eyes are on Castiel’s lips, and the minute the closes, the dom leans into the mattress and sighs happily.

That was a very satisfying scene. One of the best he’s ever planned.

The rest of his night isn’t nearly as noteworthy, as he heads back to his apartment and makes himself a quick, tasteless dinner. He messages on and off with Medic67, who seems to have had a very good night himself. They end up having a juvenile sort of competition about whose night was better, and Castiel is tempted to write something back like “well, you probably didn’t just have the best lay of your life,” but resists.

He’s not one to brag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Orgasm denial, toys (cock cage), panty kink, inversion table, 69 position, come play, sensory play, flogging
> 
> Yeaaaahhh we covered a lot of bases lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy, TrenchcoatBaby here. Happy Friday night! So one of my besties and betas is in town, so everyone say hello to the amazing WaywardJenn! CB and I loveeeee youuuuu. 
> 
> So this chapter is LONG. And full of smut, lol. We hope you enjoy! As always, all new smut tags will be posted at the end of the chapter.
> 
> **Update** There is now some NSFW art embedded in this chapter!! Shout-out to the lovely Gio for her beautiful contribution to this piece. Enjoy and read responsibly!

“Yes ma’am, that is standard procedure.” Dean smiles his best “trust me” smile and waits as the woman finally sticks out her arm for him to get an IV in. He frowns as he tries to find a vein on her frail arm. Finally he manages to catch the vein and get a solid line so he can hook her up to the fluids. “There we go, Gladys. You're good to go now.”

“No ring?”

“Excuse me?” he asks, putting away the rest of his supplies.

 “Man as handsome as you, not married?” The woman eyes him critically. White hair neatly pulled back in a bun, she looks intimidating, and he totally bets she is queen bee of the nursing home.

 “How do you know I didn’t just take off the ring for work?” He winks at her, getting an actual smile.

“No ring mark on your finger. So no lucky lady strike your fancy?” She’s smiling now, and he knows he’s about two seconds from seeing pics of this woman’s granddaughter.

“Not yet, no. Maybe I’m not really the marrying kind.” He suddenly feels like he’s at another family function, getting interrogated by Ellen again about his single status. Or worse, Charlie.

“Likely haven’t met the right one, that’s all.” The woman nods her head sagely and he refrains from rolling his eyes. He is perfectly fine being single, and for god's sake, he isn’t even thirty yet! He doesn’t understand the pressure everyone seems to put on it. “You know my grand niece is just about your age…” Dean sucks in a breath to let the woman down easy, when she interrupts, “Or my grandson, he’s quite charming. Bet you’d look lovely together. 

Dean blinks a few times, trying to process the smirk on the old woman’s face. “How did you—” he doesn’t finish his thought as the doors open and Jo shows up, ready to grab the stretcher. 

“I didn’t know, handsome, but now I do,” she laughs lightly. “Just let me know and I’ll give you his number.”

“Getting patients to set you up now, Dean?” Jo teases as they pull the woman down, heading for the ER.

“I am perfectly capable of getting myself a date if I want one.” He can feel his cheeks flush.

“I dunno, Dean. Other than your online buddy, when’s the last time you went on an honest to god date?” Jo gives a devious grin at him.

“I go on plenty of dates.” _If anonymous kinky sex scenes with a hot as hell blue eyed dom counts_. “And it’s not like you’re burning up the dating scene lately.” That seems to shut her up, quick eyes darting down to the stretcher.

“Beauty is wasted on the young,” the woman sighs. They sign her in and say their goodbyes, heading back to the truck. Jo is unusually quiet and Dean can tell she’s thinking about something.

“You got some new guy you’re not telling me about?” he asks, since being direct always seems like the best approach.

She stiffens infinitesimally before letting out a laugh. “Me? Nah, you know I like to keep things casual.”

“Uh huh, real convincing.” He rolls his eyes and begins filling out his report. Jo is quiet and dashes off with her phone as soon as they get back. He wanders back to the blissfully empty break room and flops down in his favorite lazy boy. He pulls up his signal app on his phone checking to see if FlyBoy is around.

Medic67 4:16 PM >> **What is everyone’s obsession with setting me up on a date**

FlyBoy83 4:17 PM << **If I recall, it was you who encouraged me to go out on more dates.**

Medic67 4:17 PM >> **Yeah well you were turning into a hermit**

FlyBoy83 4:21 PM << **Hermit? In that case, maybe I should start growing my beard out and move into the woods.**

A beard, huh? Dean imagines the scratch of a beard across his shoulder and nape of his neck and shivers. Which is a strange thought to have. He doesn’t even know what FlyBoy looks like, if he’s even his type. Somehow he pictures brown hair and cool blue eyes, and now, a rough five o'clock shadow dragging and tickling along his neck. He hums at the thought before shaking it from his head.

Medic67 4:22 PM >> **Too many mosquitos not enough wifi**

Medic67 4:22 PM >> **If your really a hermit you need the wifi for the internet porn**

FlyBoy83 4:23 PM << **True, wouldn’t want to miss out on the plethora of smut on the world wide web.**

Dean chuckles, leaning back in his lazy boy, feeling a bit better already. He’d been a bit on edge the past week or so since his last scene. The weather had not been working in his favor and, according to his dom’s current rule, he’d only been able to come once. Which shouldn’t be so bad, except he feels constantly turned on lately. Just the thought of his dom, the look on his face, and the memories from their last scene gets him standing at attention in a matter of seconds. It’s like being a teen again—hiding a boner under a school desk, willing it to go away.

Of course, the more he has to control himself, the harder it is. Just the thought of being a good boy, of making his master proud of him, gives him a warm feeling in his chest and a rock hard dick. He’s going to be so good, but it may just be the death of him. He’d been foolish enough to stroke himself the night before when it was well below thirty out, and almost came before he remembered himself. He’d jumped in a cold shower and shivered his way back to soft, but the ache in his balls never really went away.

After that he’d put the cock cage on and decided to leave it on at night while he slept. It really did feel good though, not as good as coming but it felt safe, secure. He trusted his dom and knew he wouldn’t ask him to do something he couldn’t handle. And Dean Winchester did not back down from a challenge. 

FlyBoy83 4:53 PM << **You know not to let them bother you, right? Family can apply a lot of pressure sometimes, but you need to do what’s right for you.**

 

Medic67 4:56 PM >> **You’d think a guy without parents could catch a break**

Medic67 4:56 PM >> **The rest of my family and every little old lady I take to the hospital seems to think I need a partner and two and half kids**

Medic67 4:57 PM >> **Like what if that’s just not in the cards for me, or what if I don’t want that?**

Medic67 4:59 PM >> **Sorry didn’t mean to unload on you**

 

He flushes a little, embarrassed about how much he just said. Probably going to scare the guy off with all his ramblings. He watches the three little dots, his friend typing in reply.

FlyBoy83 5:16 PM << **Never apologize for that. I know exactly how you feel actually, my brother is constantly prying into my love life. Can I ask, is a long-term relationship something you want for yourself?**

He stops to think about it a moment. He thinks about having someone to come home to other than his little brother. Someone who he can talk to and laugh with and watch cheesy action movies with and cook dinner with. But he also wants someone who can fuck him six ways from Sunday and take some control from him, so he can just let himself be. That person doesn’t even exist…an equal partner in life and dom in the sack? He can have either or, but both options would leave him feeling like something was missing. No, he can’t really have a committed a relationship, ‘cause no relationship can give him everything he’d want.

Medic67 5:18 PM >> **Short answer do I want it, is yes, but can I have it? Probably not.**

FlyBoy83 5:19 PM << **I’m sorry you feel that way, but I completely understand. Sometimes I am not sure the perfect person actually exists.**

Medic67 5:21 PM >> **What about your new hot date?**  

FlyBoy83 5:22 PM << **He’s amazing, but it can’t really go anywhere.**

Shit, FlyBoy is dating a guy! It’s one thing to guess, and another to get confirmation. He gets a sudden stab of jealousy that he can’t quite place. It’s not like FlyBoy is his, and he didn’t care before he knew it was a guy. He’s just being ridiculous and should be happy for his friend. With that thought, he decides to go out on a limb as well.

Medic67 5:23 PM >> **Yeah my guy isn’t really relationship material but hey at least we're getting laid right?**

FlyBoy83 5:23 PM << **Cheers to that. ;)**

Dean smiles again. Talking to FlyBoy always seems to make him feel better, even when he just listens to him. He hates when people always try to fix everything—sometimes you just want someone to listen to your shit and go, _yeah, I get it_. Not for the first time he debates asking for Flyboy’s real name, or if he wants to meet for coffee. He quickly dismisses the idea, not wanting to risk what they have, and closes his phone to wait out the rest of his shift.

***

Dean’s eyes are laser focused on the signal light above door seven. He wiggles his hips a bit, feeling the cage brush against the soft fabric of his panties. He’d loved the way his dom’s eyes had blown wide at the ones he wore last session. He’s a bit early for the scene but he just couldn’t wait at home another minute. He hadn’t come in over a week, but had edged himself four times. It was stupid to do it, but he loves pushing that limit of how far he could go and come back. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to let off steam before the scene tonight…due to the damn fucking weather.

He also couldn’t seem to stop thinking about FlyBoy. He had a date tonight as well and he kept imagining what they might be doing. He had told Dean he was planning something for them and was excited about it. Of course FlyBoy was planning something, though—he’s a really thoughtful guy. Dean wonders what it might be and hopes the guy, whoever he is, appreciates it. He really needs to stop thinking about it though, ‘cause it’s souring his mood. 

The light turns to green then and he nearly trips jumping up out of his chair. He steadies himself before marching toward the door. He bites his lip and steps inside, eyes darting around to find his dom. There he is, in the middle of the room sitting in that same damn chair, looking hotter than sin. He almost forgets how attractive the guy is in between sessions. He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, then he notices the heavy black combat boots…and fuck, if that doesn’t make his cock strain in its cage. It's a change from the businessman look from last week but he can appreciate how truly hot this man is in any persona he takes on. So long as Dean gets to call him Master, he’s on board. 

“Clothes off, down to your panties,” he orders without lifting his eyes. Dean cocks his head to the side, wondering _how_ he knew. “Yes, I know a needy cockslut like you would want to be pretty for me,” his dom explains cooly. “Now strip and kneel.”

Dean is quick to obey, tucking his clothes in the cubby before kneeling at his master’s feet on a well-placed cushion. The cushion must mean he might be there a while. Dean had chosen a bright red bikini cut pair this time, with silk corset ribbons down the side that end in bows. He likes the way the end of the ribbons tickle against his upper thigh. He bows his head, staring at those fucking boots with his hands clasped behind his back.

His dom reaches behind his chair then, plops something onto his lap. He sees a flash of leather and looks up at the flogger and small white towel on his lap. The smack that burns across his face takes him totally off guard and knocking him to the side. He catches himself on his hands and rights his position quickly, feeling the sting on his cheek. “Eyes down. I don’t want to see them above my boots, understand?” 

“Yes, Master,” he replies quickly, eyes locked on the boots.

“Good boy. I need to condition my toy here, and I want you to wait patiently like a good pet.” Dean lets out a small whimper at the thought of having to wait longer, but nods his head in consent. He focuses on the delicious sting that is quickly dissipating from his face. He can hear the slide of cloth over the strands and smell the leather conditioner on the air. 

On display and ignored, he struggles to keep himself still. He imagines the hands moving on the leather and how they should be moving over his skin. He stares at those boots and shudders, shifting a little and getting an annoyed grunt from above him. He stills a moment and his dom returns to cleaning his flogger.

“Were you a good pet for me? Did you follow my rules?”

Dean nods fervently, “Yes, Master.”

“Was it difficult, pet?” The tone sounds indifferent and it makes him yearn for his dom’s attention. 

“Yes, Master.”

“Hmmm… did you touch yourself even when you knew you couldn’t come?”

“Y-yes, Master, four times.” And while it had been almost painfully difficult, it had also made him flush with built up tension and pleasure. 

“Good boy. And I see you wore your pretty cage on your pretty cock? Tell me, pet, how long has it been since you came?” 

“Seven days, Master.” He hopes this information will earn him a reprieve of some kind.

“Well, don’t worry pet, I’ll take good care of you. But I need you to stay still for me…can you do that?” He can tell his master is giving him an out here. He feels the ache and need for release like a weight on his bones. Even more he wants to be good and well, and if he can’t, then there’s always punishment. That almost sounds more appealing.

“I can, Master,” he replies, ducking his head more. He doesn’t get a reply but hears the continued brush of the flogger. He spends what feels like forever keeping perfectly still. His mind is slowly filled with all his senses, from the dull ache in his knees to the pressure of the cage on his cock. He wants touch, he _needs_ it.

He fidgets—getting more and more impatient—licking his lips and biting on them, hoping to catch his dom’s attention. His cock is straining in its cage, feeling so ignored and desperate. When his Master hangs the flogger up and returns to his seat with another one in his lap to clean, Dean can’t contain the muttered, “Come on, already,” under his breath.

Then there’s the sudden screech of a chair, and hands grab his hair, shoving his face to the floor and pressing his cheek to the hardwood. He gasps in surprise, palms flat to the floor and ass in the air. “What was that, pet? Did you try to tell me what to do?” His voice is cool, not giving away just how much trouble Dean might be in.

He thinks maybe he can work this to his advantage, though, and get a much-needed spanking. “Maybe I was tired of waiting, Master,” the sub replies cheekily. The hand lifts from his hair as a boot presses on his shoulder blades, keeping him pinned in place.

“Are you, now? And I thought you were going to be my good boy tonight, but it seems you are just a naughty little pet, aren’t you?” The deep growl in his voice and the pressure of the boot is almost too much for Dean.

“Yes, Master. Maybe you should punish me?” he adds, feeling his cock leaking even with the cage on and wetting the front of his panties. He needs it, he needs it so bad, something, anything to get him off.

“Pets don’t decide if they get punished. I decide if they get punished and how, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” he replies, quickly already imagining how good it will feel to have the searing heat of the leather on his skin.

His Master leans over, lowering his voice, “Be careful what you wish for, pet.”

The boot is gone and fingers dig into his hair, hauling him to his feet. His Master wraps his fingers around his throat, pushing him till his back is flat up against the wall. “Hands,” he demands, and Dean quickly sticks his hands out forward. Metal cuffs from the wall are pulled down and quickly secured before his Master pulls them up above his head by a chain. Blue eyes rake over his heaving chest. Anticipation of what’s to come is thick in the air.

His Master steps back then and pulls his panties down just enough so he can take out his caged and swelling cock. He makes quick work of removing the device and Dean lets out a sigh of relief as his erection is finally free.

“Naughty pet wants a good punishment, don’t you? Want me to turn this round plump ass of yours bright red? Bet you’d come all over your pretty red panties wouldn’t you? So hot for it.” He _tsks_ as he pulls the panties backup and over his erection, the fabric dragging. Dean moans and pulls at the chain as hands grip his hips. God yes, he wants all of that so fucking bad. “Too bad naughty pets don’t get what they want. Naughty pets only get to watch.”

Then the hands are gone and his Master is walking over to the bed and pulling out a bottle of lube. Master undoes his button and fly, pulling out his half-hard cock and Dean practically drools at the sight of it. He leans against the bedpost, then legs spread apart, taking himself in his slickened hand and begins to stroke. “Too bad you’re not going to be able to help me with this,” his Master chuckles as he pulls and rolls his hand around the head of his cock. “Cockslut like you, bet you're dying to get a taste, aren’t you? I would have given it to you if you’d behaved yourself.”

Dean’s eyes go wide when he realizes his dom isn’t going to touch him, or whip him, he is just going to leave him there to watch. He whimpers with the loss of it, staring hypnotized at the slow, steady drag of his Master’s hand on his cock. He watches as he tips his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and muscles in his arms straining.

“Maybe, I-I’ll come all over my boots,” the dom pants, “and if you’re a really good boy I’ll let you lick it up.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” Dean whines shaking, in his restraints. His dom laughs and then moans as he lightly squeezes the head of his dick. He may be the hottest thing Dean has ever seen and he can’t touch or move or get his lips around that glorious cock, and he might just go mad without it. Then he locks onto those blue eyes and realizes that he knows exactly what he’s doing to him, and Dean has no one but himself to blame.

***

Castiel’s chest is heaving, feeling boneless and spent, his recent orgasm making him lightheaded. His sub is still chained to the wall, writhing around wildly as his erect and leaking cock leaves damp spots on the front of his panties. The man is a vision of debauchery and neediness, and Castiel very much wants to make him come, but he’s not sure his sub has earned it after his bratty behavior earlier. 

“Please…” The voice is small and pleading, and Castiel just hums with dim acknowledgment, walking over the counter and wiping his cock off with tissues. He tucks himself back inside, zips the fly of his jeans, and bends over to wipe the come off his boots when he hears his sub shout, “No!” 

Castiel spins around, cocking an eyebrow, and the man has tears in the corners of his eyes. “Please, Master, just…” The sub blushes furiously, looking as though it’s taking every ounce of courage he has to speak this desire out loud. “Just let me lick the come off your boots… _please_.”

The dom finds it difficult to hide his surprise. He had only mentioned the boot-licking thing in the heat of the moment, as just another way to tease and punish his sub for his bad behavior, but his pet is surprisingly turned on by this idea.

“Only my good boy is allowed to do that,” Castiel says, emphasizing his regret, as if the decision is out of his hands. And it _is_ in a way, isn’t it? He had planned an amazing scene for tonight, but his sub’s impatience and attitude had changed the trajectory of their play time. But perhaps this is just an opportunity to get creative and think quickly on his feet.

“I’ll be your good boy,” the sub cries. “I’m so sorry, Master, please just let me be yours…please…”

His lip is quivering, his abdomen tightening as he fights back a fresh wave of tears, and Castiel resists the urge to pin him even harder against the wall and kiss the breath out of him. But no, he’ll save that for later. Right now he has a better idea. 

“Very well,” he says formally, and the sub’s eyes are gleaming wide with desire and relief, “on one condition.”

He takes firm but slow steps forward, and the sub’s gaze is planted respectfully on the ground, showing reverence. Castiel crowds against him, huddles close to his ear, and whispers, “If you’re going to act like a dog, then you’ll be my little bitch for the rest of the evening. Won’t you?”

The man whimpers, struggling against the constraints. “Yes, Master.”

“I want you to be my good little pup, my perfect bitch, and then I’ll think of letting you come.” Castiel is surprised by this turn of events—on both their B&B surveys, they’d given a tentative “yes” on puppy play, but Cas had assumed they would build up more to this particular kink. He’s willing to try it if his sub is also into it, of course, as it certainly seems he is. “Safeword?”

“Impala,” the man responds immediately. “Let me be your good boy, your good pet, Master…” Satisfied that they’re on the same page, Castiel slips the man’s panties off him and begins to undo the cuffs. He drops the garment on top of the stack of folded clothes, and once the man is free of all restraints he sways a little on his feet, clearly unsteady. 

“On all fours,” Castiel instructs heatedly, taking a step back to give him adequate space. “I want to see how good of a bitch you can be.”

The gorgeous man moans softly as he lowers himself to the floor, on hands and knees with his back arched, and it reminds Castiel of the very suggestive cat-cow pose he sometimes practices in yoga. He wants to run a hand through the perfect dip on the man’s lower back, brushing every tight and active muscle…but there are better ways to reward a bitch.

“You won’t speak unless you require your safeword. Do you understand?” The man whines, shoulders shaking, and nods. “Good.”

He squats low, their eyes level, and he tucks his hand under the man’s chin to force eye contact. “You’re a beautiful pet, if not a little too naughty and untrained for my liking. You know, I could’ve mounted you from behind, could’ve fucked you doggie style, could’ve pumped you full of come until I had you screaming.”

The man is breathing heavily now, and something like a rumble comes from his chest. His cock is impossibly hard, the tip weeping precome. He opens his mouth to speak, to likely beg, but shuts it firmly, remembering the parameters of their current scene.

“Instead, I’ll have to train you. Won’t I?” Castiel drops his grip on the man’s chin and the sub shakes his head enthusiastically. He stands back up straight, domineering and speaking evenly, and instructs, “Lick my boots clean.”

His pet launches into action instantly, bending over and gathering and swallowing the come desperately. Castiel resists the urge to palm at the front of his jeans—but the sight of the man’s quick-working, pink tongue, slobbering all over his boots…it’s primal and frantic, as if he’s dying for it, and it makes Castiel moan deeply in the back of his throat. 

“That’s a good bitch,” he coos, weaving a hand into the man’s hair and petting him, and the man just whines happily at the feeling of finally being touched. He doesn’t consider his sub touch-starved by any means, but it seems his craving for physical contact and attention has reached new heights tonight. The rhythmic sounds of his licking are lulling and wet and making Castiel feel flushed.

“That’s enough,” he commands, once the boots are shiny and clean with spit. He’ll have to actually clean these boots off later, but he usually only wears them for scenes, another persona he had intended to try on his sub today. His pet stops instantly, following instructions quite well now, and presents his firm ass into the air as if he’s proud of it. Which obviously, he _should be_. He’s trying to entice Castiel into touching him, to give him want he wants, but the dom fully means to maintain control of the situation.

He spends a good amount of time looking as though he’s inspecting his boots, and when there’s no remaining come present, he murmurs, “What a good bitch, following Master’s instructions.” He clicks his tongue, as if he’s in deep thought. “I should give you a collar so everyone knows you’re _my_ pet.”

The man moans loudly and without shame, and Castiel is pleased but not altogether shocked that the man appreciates the idea of being claimed. “Is that want you want? A collar so you know who you belong to, so I can hook you up to a leash as you suck my cock?”

He’s getting hard again, amazingly, and his sub nods so eagerly he’s surprised the man didn’t accidentally start begging aloud. He’s trying very hard to be good, and Castiel is ready to reward him. 

“Come here, pet,” he orders, pointing to his shin, and the man looks slightly confused but follows the command. “If you’re going to be my bitch, you’ll get yourself off like one. Here’s how I’ll train the disobedience out of you… If you want to come, you won’t touch yourself. You can hump my leg, and rutt against me like the eager bitch you are, but that’s all you’re getting from me.”

His pet whines softly, almost pathetically, but he mounts his body against Castiel’s right leg. Denim isn’t great for friction but the first brush against his cock makes the sub throw his head back, moaning, kneading back and forth against Castiel’s shin. The dom has never seen someone so needy, so bursting and ready to come that he’s willing to rub one out against someone’s leg. It’s enough to make his erection fully hard, and he unbuttons his jeans and slips denim and underwear to his lower thighs, stroking himself steadily. From his current position, the sub is staring at the dom’s cock as if it’s a prize he wants more than anything in the world, and he whimpers at the sight of Castiel’s fist working himself over.

“What a gorgeous pet you are,” Castiel breathes. He’s glad his hand is still a little damp with the lube from earlier, since that combined with precome is just enough to make his hand glide smoothly. “So desperate for it that you’ll hump my leg, won’t you, bitch?”

He’s very close already, his erection stiff and pink and glistening wet, and the sub increases his speed, rutting against Castiel and clinging to his upper thigh. Castiel is falling over the edge again, the rough rhythm of his sub clinging to him increasing the momentum, and he demands, “Come for me, _now_.”

The sub cries out, shoulders shaking, and then he’s spilling all over the front of Castiel’s jeans. There are globs of white come streaking down, the sub beneath him panting and exhaling and grasping him tightly. This isn’t Cas’ first rodeo, and he has instructions saved on how to get semen stains out of denim, so he simply enjoys the sight of the man coming undone at his feet. He strokes himself more quickly until he’s on the cusp of orgasm again, but he needs something to set him off the edge, so he orders, “Lick my cock, pet.”

His sub moans with excitement and takes Castiel fully into the hot wet heat of his mouth, and as astounding as the sucking motions feels, Castiel reaches for the man’s hair and tugs him off roughly.

“Don’t get greedy,” he scolds. “I told you to lick, and only lick. My good boy follows instructions.”

Cas can tell—it physically pains the man to restrain himself around a good cock. He’s a true cockslut for his dom, which only makes his compliance twice as hot for Castiel. He reaches his mouth up and licks tentatively, once, twice, and Cas sighs and grips his hair lightly in encouragement. His tongue circles the head of Castiel’s cock, concentrating on the slit, and it’s so delicate and light that it’s driving him wild. When he’s nearly over the edge, he pulls away and pumps his cock a few times before spilling all over his sub’s face. The man laps it up willingly, sucking on his lower lip and whining, and Castiel takes his thumb and rubs the come deeper onto the man’s skin. His cheeks and forehead are streaked with Castiel’s claim and he seems to understand what the dom is implying, sighing and sinking into the pleasure of it.

They only have twenty-five minutes left according to Castiel’s watch, so he decides to combine their puppy play with aftercare, merging them slightly and cleaning them both off before instructing his pet to come lay with him. He sits up on the bed comfortably and instructs the man to curl up beside him, his head tucked in Castiel’s lap, breathing heavily and nudging the dom needily by rubbing his face against his thigh. Castiel touches him all over, his head and neck and shoulders and back, fingertips light and soothing as his sub relaxes beneath him. Finally, when he thinks it’s very possible the man might have drifted off to sleep, he whispers, “Is my good boy ready to talk again?”

The sub grunts, eyelids fluttering open. “Time to go?”

“Almost,” Castiel responds, unable to keep the regret out of his voice. “I need you to sit up and have some juice.”

The man complies, stretching lazily and letting Castiel pour a sip of grape juice into his parted lips. He smacks them together, looking disappointed. “Sugar free?”

“It was your request,” Castiel replies, and the man scowls but nods and takes another sip. It’s so adorable that Cas smiles at him, and finally does what he’s been daydreaming about for nearly two hours…he cups the man’s chin and brings their lips together. The kiss is good, too good, practically dizzying as they lean back against the pillows, lips wet and sliding together. This could escalate quickly, and he’s tempted to lick into the man’s mouth and deepen the kiss, but he pulls away instead. He leaves small kisses all over his face, remembering how his come had been there thirty minutes ago and panting slightly at the thought.

“You make me very happy,” he says genuinely, leaving a trail of chaste kisses on his neck. It’s frightening, but true…he’s spent less than two months with this man, but he’s already knocked off-kilter.

“I do?” The man’s voice is small and timid, and Castiel realizes he’s still harboring guilt over his outburst at the beginning of their scene. “But I was so…I mean, _I’m_ so…”

“You’re perfect,” Castiel concludes, without a shred of hesitation.

“But earlier—”

“I’ve already punished you, pet,” he interrupts, making his voice have a slight edge. “Unless you don’t think your dom did a good job?”

“You did,” the man agrees fervently. “You always do, Master…”

“Well then, I don’t want my good boy worrying.” He pauses, locked in a sudden gaze, and feels a flutter of nervousness when those stunning green eyes look back at him. “You’re gorgeous. And good. And all mine.”

The man blushes and looks down, but he seems to be doing much better, and Castiel thinks they’ve avoided any potential sub drop. Still, he hates that he can’t be there for him during the week, can’t check in on him or lift him up on the bad days. Considering Castiel’s previous trouble with subs, Billie recommended no outside contact of any kind, but he wants very badly to hear the man’s voice again before the two weeks is up…

He blinks and checks his watch, realizing that they’re running five minutes late. He could lay in bed with this man all day, but he doubts either of them could afford an extra hour, so his sub stirs and begins to lazily dress. It’s a sight that’s making the dom increasingly wistful, seeing his sub walk away from him. Once the door is shut and he’s alone, he begins to strip and change. It was lucky that he’d brought a change of clothes, because he can’t imagine spending the rest of the night with come stains on his jeans. He turns on his phone and sees a slew of missing texts, swearing under his breath…he’s been summoned into work because Hannah called out sick. Dammit. 

He keeps an extra uniform in his locker at work, so he can head straight there instead of making a stop at his apartment. Looks like he’ll be having a dinner of vending machine snacks…sigh. Medic67 is definitely going to disapprove of the nosedive his diet is taking. 

He slips into his Lincoln Continental and grips the steering wheel tightly, trying to get visions of green eyes out of his head. He doesn’t love the idea of going straight from a scene to a long shift at work, since it takes him time to process everything that’s transpired and slip out of his dom persona. He also wants to check his messages on Signal, and see if his best friend is having a good night so far, but he has to get to work first and see what’s up.

The next few hours pass in a blur. As soon as he gets dressed, Castiel and Balthazar load into the helicopter, transporting a patient from Mass General to the Baptist hospital in Brookline. The patient is stable for now but terrified of flying, so Castiel keeps the man occupied with stories and chatter until they land. He makes sure the hospital staff take him in and get him set-up nicely, and it’s only when they’re on their way back to the break room that he checks his phone.

Medic67 7:35 PM << **Hey I know you’re probably still on your date but i’m in for the night and there’s a polar bear doc on netflix that you HAVE to watch**

Medic67 7:36 PM << **they may or may not be talking about your fav topic, aka how to die from a vitamin D overdose via polar bear liver**

Medic67 8:02 PM << **{picture uploaded}**

Medic67 8:02 PM << **okay but honest to god are these cubs not the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen**

Medic67 9:15 PM << **i’ve moved on to watching more MASH cuz there’s nothing more classic, ‘cept maybe Dr. Sexy**

Medic67 9:21 PM << **damn, having you and Sammy both busy tonight is making me stir crazy**

Medic67 9:55 PM << **sorry I keep spamming you, your date is obviously going super well so i’ll leave you alone**

Castiel shakes his head as he reads the messages, smiling. His best friend is charming and funny and being a little clingy tonight, but he honestly doesn’t mind. He lounges around on the couch in the break room, watching Balthazar mill around the kitchen and heat up a frozen dinner while he messages back and forth with his friend.

FlyBoy83 10:12 PM >> **Hey, you still awake?**

He receives a response almost immediately:

Medic67 10:13 PM << **yup I’m here**

FlyBoy83 10:13 PM >> **Apologies, I got called in for the night shift so I’ve been a little preoccupied.**

Medic67 10:14 PM << **oh damn, that sucks, i’m sorry**

Medic67 10:14 PM << **did that ruin your date??**

It’s interesting to Castiel how fixated his friend is on his so-called “dating” life, but he tries not to read too much into it. Yes, ‘67 is attracted to men too, but that doesn’t mean there’s a future for them beyond a deep and powerful friendship. He won’t settle for less than someone who fulfill his emotional _and_ sexual needs, since it’s not fair to either party if one of those is missing. Even if ‘67 is truly his best friend, the likelihood that they’ll have chemistry in real life is honestly slim to none. There’s well over a half-million people living in Boston, and hundreds of medics in the field, so the chance of their paths ever crossing is very little. Besides, even if their paths _have_ crossed, it’s not like Castiel knows what his friend looks like. He doesn’t even know his name…

FlyBoy83 10:16 PM >> **No, the date went well. Bit of a snag at the beginning, but it ended up being great.**

Medic67 10:17 PM << **awesome**

FlyBoy83 10:18 PM >> **How’s your night going?**

Medic67 10:18 PM << **fine**  

FlyBoy83 10:19 PM >> **One word answers?** **That’s concerning.**

Medic67 10:20 PM << **okay fine, i’m kinda in a bad mood**

Castiel furrows his brow, instantly worried.

FlyBoy83 10:21 PM >> **What’s wrong?**

Medic67 10:18 PM << **nothing, it’s stupid**

He huffs out a breath of impatience. He’s had a long night, going from dom to medic to friend, and all the parts of his identity are starting to blend when he sends back:

FlyBoy83 10:21 PM >> **Either tell me, or I’ll find a way to force it out of you.**

The three-dot typing bubble is present for several minutes, and Castiel is worried he let his dominant self show too much and he should probably apologize, whenever he finally receives a response.

Medic67 10:25 PM << **okay fine, bossy much??**

Medic67 10:26 PM << **i’m not really sure what’s wrong, but i’ve had a pretty crazy day and then you and sammy were both gone tonight, and i was just alone with my thoughts, and i started feeling lonely i guess**

Castiel’s hearts softens considerably at the words. He thinks for a brief moment about his sub, the gorgeous green-eyed man, and hopes he’s reaching out to a friend if he’s experiencing subdrop. There’s nothing Castiel can do to help him outside of a scene, but at least with ‘67, he can coach his friend through this.

FlyBoy83 10:27 PM >> **I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. But based off everything I know about you, you’re incredibly loved and appreciated. If you’re still feeling lonely, is there a friend you can call?**

Medic67 10:27 PM << **not really, everyone’s in bed now. damn adults responsibilities**

Medic67 10:28 PM << **will you just stay up with me until I fall asleep?**

FlyBoy83 10:29 PM >> **Of course.**

FlyBoy83 10:29 PM >> **Are you in bed now?**

Medic67 10:33 PM < **Sorry, brushing teeth. Yep I am now**

FlyBoy83 10:34 PM >> **Good. Can you try something for me?**

Medic67 10:35 PM < **...if you’re about to ask me to mediate, you should know I’m not into new age yoga crap**

Castiel chuckles, though in a flash of remembrance he envisions his stunning sub from tonight, on hands and knees, back curved and ass up…

FlyBoy83 10:36 PM >> **No, nothing like that. But tell me, how do you sleep?**

Medic67 10:37 PM < **with my eyes closed**

Castiel scowls, typing quickly.

FlyBoy83 10:37 PM >> **Don’t be a brat.**

FlyBoy83 10:37 PM >> **Just answer the question.**

He expects his friend to argue with him, to reject Castiel’s insistent and domineering attitude, but he surprises Cas yet again.

Medic67 10:38 PM < **sorry, uh…on my stomach with a hand under the pillow**

FlyBoy83 10:40 PM >> **Okay, thank you. Whenever you’re feeling lonely or panicked, would you try something for me?**

Medic67 10:41 PM < **shoot**

FlyBoy83 10:42 PM >> **Tuck yourself tightly with the sheet and blanket, until your arms are pinned down and you feel completely motionless. It should make you feel secure, like you’re receiving a hug. It might make you feel better.**

Medic67 10:43 PM < **woah, you a shrink now buddy ?**

Medic67 10:43 PM < **gonna try it though, thanks**  

FlyBoy83 10:44 PM >> **Anytime. :)**  

FlyBoy83 10:44 PM >> **And no, certainly not a shrink, but I do enjoy watching over the people I care about.**

Medic67 10:45 PM < “ **watching over”? Is that an angel joke from FlyBoy, of all people??**

Castiel grins, leaning against the cushion of the couch. 

FlyBoy83 10:46 PM >> **What can I say? I’m very on-brand today.**

They chat for a few more minutes before ‘67 says goodnight, and once the message turns quiet Castiel flattens himself against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He needs coffee and snacks if he’s going to make it till dawn. He stands and stretches, heading into the kitchen, but his mind is preoccupied by the events of the day. Wherever they are, he hopes his sub and his friend are both tucked away in bed, feeling his care and attention for them as they drift off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Boot worship, Collar Kink, Edging, Face Slapping, Pet Play, Come Marking, Sub Drop
> 
> Post your reaction below... :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers!  
> CB here with another chapter for you guys. This weeks conversation between TCBaby and myself went something like this.
> 
> CB: So do you have any preference on kink for this chapter?  
> TCBaby: Nope surprise me  
> CB: You sure?  
> TCBaby: Yup  
> CB: Okay here we go
> 
> This is why writing with her is so much fun, we are really enjoying this process. Thank you guys for coming along for the ride hopefully this chapter will make you awww at the sweet parts and fan yourself at the hot ones.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> *** TAGS IN END NOTES ***

“Dean, why are you wrapped up like a burrito?” His brother’s voice is full of curiosity. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” Dean pulls the blanket down tighter over his face, grunting at the bright light as Sam opens the blinds.

“Seriously, I’m going to leave without you, and _you_ can explain to Ellen why you were late. Rise and shine.” Sam sing songs the last part, shaking his shoulder.

“I will rise, but I refuse to shine,” Dean grumbles, trying to disentangle himself from his cocoon of blankets.

“Ten minutes!” Sam yells over his shoulder as he leaves the room. Dean stretches and stumbles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He feels surprisingly good, considering he was in a bit of a drop the night before. He usually plans better and makes sure he can handle a drop on his own. With his arrangement he doesn’t have access to his dom outside of the club. Normally just some ice-cream on the couch and hanging out with Sam does the trick. But with Sam heading out to meet up with someone he wouldn’t name, and then not being able to indulge in his normal sweet treat—stupid diet—he’d started to feel pretty rotten. He still smiles thinking of FlyBoy coming to the rescue, how just knowing he was there had eased the building tension in his chest.

Sometimes moments like that really make him wish for something more. He imagines what that would be like, to go home with a dom...to go home with _his_ dom. To feel that human contact all through the night so he knows he isn’t alone or crazy. Waking up to those blue eyes staring down at him and those strong hands wrapped around him. It does paint a pretty great picture. Still, he shakes his dom from his mind as he gets dressed, then meets a very impatient looking brother by the door.

“What’s got you all worked up? You know Ellen won’t actually care if we’re a few minutes late.” Dean rolls his eyes, grabbing his keys as they head out.

Sam is quiet on the whole drive over, which is fine by him since he can’t seem to stop thinking about his dom. What would he look like standing in the kitchen, cooking breakfast with a spatula in hand? But a spatula in his dom’s hand only makes him think of how good it would feel making his ass red, and he flushes at the image of being bent over the kitchen table, a firm hand to the back of his neck.

“You missed the turn.” Sam’s voice cuts through his very ill-timed fantasy.

“Sorry I’ll just bang a U-ey up here,” he mumbles, finding a spot to do a u-turn and head back to Ellen’s house. He can feel Sam’s eyes on him, but for some reason he doesn’t press the issue about what has him so distracted. They pull up to Harvelle’s and drive around to the house in back. Both the roadhouse and Ellen’s house look just the same as they always have. The old bar and restaurant, with its tough brown siding and tinted windows, are a stark contrast to the bright white ranch home that sits back along the drive. Regardless, both places feel like home to Dean.

They both get out and head around back, following the sound of voices. Dean immediately spots Bobby, Rufus, and Pastor Jim all huddled around the grill bickering with each other, a beer in hand.

“Your gonna burn ’em if you don’t flip soon,” Rufus grumbles, reaching for Bobby’s tongs. Bobby proceeds to smack his hand with them and shakes them like a damn weapon.

“Back off, Rufus. I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s what he said last time and we had hockey pucks for burgers,” Jim chuckles.

Dean saunters over. “Come on, they weren’t that bad…if you like charcoal.” That earns him a laugh from the other two while Bobby scowls at him.

“You think you can do better, then be my guest.” Bobby shoves the tongs into his hand and marches off to the house, likely to find Ellen.

Dean just shakes his head and flips hot dogs, leaving the burgers where they are. The family Sunday lunches that Ellen hosts are less frequent now, happening every other month, but he still smiles thinking his dad would be happy they still take place. His mom dying young and not having much extended family means Ellen and Dad’s old Marine buddies had become their surrogate family.

“How’s the knee?” Dean asks Jim, seeing him shifting his weight.

“Oh, still hurts, but comes with the territory.” Jim laughs it off. “So where’s your taller half? I have that book he lent me.”

Dean looks around the yard but doesn’t see Sam. He shrugs, “Dunno, he was behind me when we came in.”

“Uh-huh, bet he went to find something sweet,” Rufus adds, frowning a bit. At that moment Sam comes out of the house with a bowl of fresh cut fruit in his arms.

“Hey, guys.” Sam smiles, putting the fruit down on the picnic table and coming over to give Jim a hug and Rufus a nod. Sam and Jim immediately begin discussing the book they shared while Rufus proceeds to backseat cook over his shoulder.

“You boys done with those burgers yet?” Ellen calls, coming out from the kitchen with a bowl of pasta salad in hand. Jo is trailing behind her, a fresh six pack in each hand, hair falling gracefully around her shoulders in waves. It’s always a bit shocking to see Jo in civilian clothes now since Dean is so accustomed to her sporting a standard ponytail and uniform.

“Burgers are done,” Dean answers, plating them. “Hey Jo, can you toss me a beer?” She rolls her eyes but hands him a bottle all the same.

“Where’s my proper hello?” Ellen comes up to him and smacks his shoulder. “Boy, I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

“Sorry Ellen, I know I missed our call. It’s been busy lately.” He gives her his most remorseful look.

“Yeah, well between you and Jo never calling me, I would feel like pariah if it wasn’t for Sam here. He never misses his mom on Monday call.” Ellen gives Sam a wink.

“Golden child showing us up.” Dean laughs, looking at Jo who rolls her eyes.

“Pretty perfect,” she adds, looking at Sam with a smirk.

Sam’s cheeks turn red as he stares at his shoes. “It’s not hard to find time for a phone call.” He shrugs, bringing the rest of the food to the table.

Ellen pulls Dean in for a hug now, finally forgiven. He really should set a reminder to call or something. He owes a lot to her and it’s the least he can do. “Would you idjits stop yapping? I’m starved,” Bobby grunts, sitting at the table next to Rufus, who’s already piling the relish on his hot dog.

They all get settled and dig in, Sam and Jo flanking him on either side. He loves moments like this, having his family all together and bickering and eating and just being together. His dad had struggled at being a single father, but if he did one thing right it was bringing these people into their life.

“Where’s Charlie…wasn’t she coming?” Jo asks, looking at the boys.

“She’s at some convention in Vegas this weekend, but she said she’d come next time.” Dean’s childhood best friend Charlie is a spitfire of a redhead who was orphaned young and had been quickly taken into their misfit family. Charlie was actually the only one he’d even told about his extracurricular activities, knowing she’d never judge him for it. He hasn’t told her about his new dom though, and he thinks maybe he needs a night out to talk things through with her. She’s usually pretty good at helping to tell him when he’s in over his head.

“Bet she comes back with another tattoo,” Sam laughs.

“No way, she won’t do that again,” Jo scoffs.

“Ten bucks says I’m right,” Sam challenges.

“You’re on, Winchester,” Jo smiles over at Sam.

Rufus clears his throat, looking at the two of them. “More fruit?” he says, gesturing at the bowl, and they both shake their heads. Something fishy is going on but Dean can’t quite put his finger on it.

“So, boys, no plus ones for family cookout yet?” Ellen asks, as she starts to clear the table off.

Dean shrugs and starts to help her grab plates, “Nope, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, honey,” Ellen wraps an arm around his waist, “you could never disappoint me. I just want to see you find someone who will make you happy, is all.”

He sighs, kissing the top of her head. “I know, maybe someday.”

“How about you, Sam?” Rufus chimes in as he cleans off the grill.

Bobby laughs. “Think that kid would slow down long enough to take his nose out of a book for a pretty girl?”

Sam turns red again with the attention put on him now. “Actually, I did kinda meet someone, but we’re still figuring things out.”

This is news to Dean, but it would explain his brother’s cagey behavior lately. “You wanna share with the class?” Jim asks, all eyes on Sam.

“Nope,” he replies, and bolts inside, arms full of leftovers. Dean rolls his eyes but thinks the questioning and teasing is over for now. They eventually say their goodbyes and Dean even lets Sam drive since he’s feeling his last beer. His phone buzzes and he smiles, pulling it out and seeing a Signal notification.

FlyBoy83 2:19 PM << **Have I ever mentioned how much I prefer our military pilots over our civilian ones?**

Medic67 2:43 PM >> **Hahaha a few times yes**

FlyBoy83 2:44 PM << **He circled the spot five times before landing…five times.**

FlyBoy83 2:44 PM << **How’s your afternoon going?**

Medic67 2:46 PM >> **Good just heading home from the family cookout**

FlyBoy83 2:46 PM << **What family was there?**

Medic67 2:49 PM >> **Well my brother was my only actual family, you know with my dad passing a few years back. We just met up with some our dad’s old marine buddies.**

FlyBoy83 2:52 PM << **That sounds like nice way to spend a day off**

Medic67 2:52 PM >> **Yeah it’s good to see them, especially Ellen she’s my partner’s mom actually, but she kinda took my brother and I in under her wing as kids. Closest thing I ever had to a mom.**

FlyBoy83 2:57 PM << **:)**

FlyBoy83 2:57 PM << **Sometimes the family you make can be better than the real thing.**

Medic67 2:58 PM >> **Truth**

He smiles, chatting with FlyBoy the whole way home. He tells him all about his family, and not for the first time, wishes he could bring his friend with him for a cookout sometime. His reasons for not meeting his friend are seeming less and less important with each passing day.

***

“Dean, do you have a minute?” Billie taps his shoulder and he nods, jumping up from his seat and heading over to the desk. “Your dom has instructions for you tonight.” She hands him a small note and he feels his heart race at what might be written there.

_Dearest Pet,_

_I would like to do a roleplay tonight that was on your list. When you come in you should refer to me as Doctor or Sir. If you are amenable, let Billie know. If not, we can meet for a normal scene in our regular room. I look forward to having you under me one way or another._

_Yours,_

_Master_

He gulps reading it, thinking of his list and the medical kink he’d put on there. Getting to live out a little Dr. Sexy fantasy? Hell, yes!

“I’m good to go for that,” he answers quietly, seeing the warm smile on her face.

“Alright, I will let him know. Just watch for the signal on room four…and he booked an extra hour in the room tonight.” He nods, reaching for his card and she waves it away, “On him, Dean.”

He normally splits the cost of the room with his dom, and he likes keeping that part of the arrangement on an equal playing field. Still, they hadn’t discussed more time, so he can let it go this once. He heads back to the chair, watching as different signal lights turn green and eager subs bounce up off their chairs to head to their doms. Finally, his light turns green and he makes his way to room four.

He opens it to find what looks like a medical office, with an eye chart on the wall, a rolling stool, and a medical table. There is no sign of his dom. He feels anticipation building, nerves on edge as he peers around, seeing a large, simple cot on the far side and a short counter with cabinets on it. If he didn’t know better, he would think he was in any medical examination room, about to get a physical.

The door opens and he spins to see his dom entering the room…and he has a fucking white lab coat on and is carrying a clipboard. He doesn’t even lift his eyes to look at Dean as he moves to set the clipboard down. “Hurry up, clothes off and on the table, pet.”

‘Yes, Sir.” He jumps to comply, folding his clothes and placing them on the empty chair he just saw in the corner. Naked, he moves to sit on the table with his legs hanging off the end. Goosebumps break out on his skin as he watches his dom’s back as he bends over, looking at his clipboard.

“Alright, your Master has sent you here for a quick check up. He also wants a full top to bottom evaluation.” The doctor sets down the clipboard and turns to look him over, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of latex gloves. He carefully pulls them on as he approaches, giving them an ominous snap against his wrist.

A cool gloved hand reaches up to grip his jaw. “Open up, pet.” Dean complies and feels immensely glad he brushed his teeth so well. “Hmm, nice wide stretch to the mouth, soft supple lips. Bet those feel lovely wrapped around your Master’s cock, don’t they, pet?” Dean nods as best he can, envisioning the weight of his dom on his tongue, filling up his mouth, and it’s so fucking hot. “Good, now let’s test that gag reflex a bit, shall we?” Two fingers slide over his tongue, gliding back into his throat. He works hard to swallow against the intrusion as he feels knuckles press against his lips. It’s a force of will to just take what he’s given and keep his throat lax.

“Very impressive pet, not many can take my fingers that deep,” he praises as he pulls them back, and Dean feels a flush of pride at the words. He keeps his mouth open till his dom lets go of his jaw. He watches as the man moves to lift the back of the table up at a forty-five degree angle and places a hand on his chest to push him to lie back.

He shivers as the gloved hand moves down his chest and circles his left nipple before giving it a testing squeeze. He gasps at the sensation, feeling his cock twitch in response. He’d been so distracted he’d hardly noticed his semi was well on its way to fully hard. “Hmm, interesting,” his dom hums to himself as he moves to pinch and roll his other hard nub between his fingers. Dean pulls in a shaky breath feeling the muscle in his stomach tighten as the pleasure-pain sensation runs through him. “Very responsive to nipple stimulation,” he adds, moving to make a note on his clipboard. “Can become erect without direct genital stimulation.”

He puts down the notes and comes back over to Dean, standing right in between his spread knees. He feels utterly exposed as those cool blue eyes scan over him, then reach down, moving something under his table. Two stirrups pop up on either side of him, and he can’t contain the shiver that runs through him or the low whimper he lets out.

“Feet up and slide down till those round cheeks are to the edge of the table.” He pats the stirrups and Dean nervously lifts his legs, settling each into the holders and watching as his dom pulls a leather strap to hold his feet in place. It’s definitely not standard issue but he can appreciate the modification. He thinks he will need all the help he can get to stay still.

“Good, pet. Let's get a look, shall we?” His dom pulls up the rolling stool, seating himself low, and pushes Dean’s legs up and out till he has a clear view of everything…including his puckered hole. Dean looks down between his legs and sees that handsome face staring up at his incredibly hard cock. Hands smooth down the insides of his thighs till they reach his groin, and one gloved hand wraps around his length, giving it a light squeeze.

“Beautiful cock, truly lovely specimen. You don’t usually see such a fine, long member on a little cockslut like you, but I have to say it’s a nice change of pace.” He grips and rolls his thumb up under his cock, teasing at the head as it pulses and throbs in the strong grip. All too soon the hand leaves him and is quickly cupping and rolling his balls. Dean’s hands have a white-knuckled grip on the side of the table. “Bet these beauties spill all over the place, don’t they? Responsive little pet like you. Bet I barely need to touch you for you to come all over yourself.”

“Yes, Sir,” he pants out, barely able to form the words.

“I thought so. Best put it to the test though, shouldn’t we?” He watches as his dom spins, digging through the drawer and pulls out a long wand-like instrument with a bulbous head at the end. He gulps at the mischievous look in those blue eyes. “Deep breath, pet,” he purrs as he slowly presses in a slick finger to his aching, needy hole.

***

“Tell me how that feels,” Castiel purrs, his slick knuckle buried in the tight heat of the man’s hole. He’s still wearing the latex gloves, and the lube covering the smooth texture is making his digit slide in even easier than usual. His left hand is holding the prostate stimulator, just high enough for it to stay in his sub’s field of vision.

“G-good, thank you, Doctor,” the man responds, breathing heavy and holding impossibly still. Castiel wiggles his finger around, hooking it slightly until he brushes the nub that he knows is the man’s prostate, and the sub whines and pulls against the restraint. _He’s going to lose his mind once I insert this device,_  Castiel thinks heatedly, staring down at the polished silver instrument, eager to see his sub surrender all semblance of control. “Ah, that’s…that’s amazing, Sir…thank you…”

“Such a polite patient,” Castiel comments, his tone pleased, leaning closer to get a better look at his finger entering and exiting. “Your Master must be very happy with you.” He pauses for more lube and adds a second finger, and the man moans low in his throat.

“I’m very happy with my Master,” he whispers, and for a brief second, it seems as though they’re having a very honest conversation about their arrangement, under the guise of roleplaying. It makes Castiel’s heart beat a little faster to hear that his sub is enjoying their time together, that he’s getting just as much gratification and pleasure out of this relationship as he is.

Castiel has been fantasizing about this particular scene for years, and now that it’s finally here, he can’t believe it’s lucky enough to be with a sub like _this._  So pliant, so gorgeous, so naturally submissive. He’s been worrying the past few weeks that his beautiful sub might’ve had a drop after their last scene, and he wanted to reassure him, to give him a memorable scene to look back on. Medical roleplaying was mentioned as a potential interest to them both, and he doesn’t know about his sub, but he’s certainly enjoying himself at the moment.

“I believe you’re ready for more…” He tries to keep his voice cool and even, but he feels his own cock grow hard against his slacks. In hindsight, this idea might’ve been awful—mixing work with kink—but the sight of his sub writhing above him, spread wide open on the stirrups, is going to make up for any discomfort he feels during his next shift.

“Doc knows best,” the man replies, cheeky and playful, and Castiel should probably scold him for his carefree attitude towards him, but it’s so reassuring to see his sub enjoying himself that he decides to let it slide. Besides, he enjoys that his sub seems to have a sense of humor, a mischievous and spirited side. It’s what makes him an exciting and occasionally challenging sub, but in the perfect way, keeping the anticipation constantly mounting. Part of Castiel regrets that he’ll never be able to be _actual_ friends with him, though. He knows nothing about this man, not his occupation or family life or even his name, but he imagines they would enjoy each other’s company outside the bedroom, too.

“Is that so?” Castiel glances at him through his spread-eagle position and offers him a raised eyebrow. The man’s dick is erect but totally untouched, and Castiel fights the urge to stroke the cock nice and tight. His sub just smiles back down at him, eager and needy, so he adds a third finger instead. He moans happily at the intrusion and Castiel struggles to maintain his composure. He wants to whip his dick out right now, jack himself off roughly until his sub’s face and stomach are marked with come, but this isn’t about him, so he continues lavishing attention onto his pet. “You’re very tight, very needy. I think I need to go deeper to complete my examination.”

He lifts the instrument, the silver surface gleaning, and pulls his fingers out so he has both hands free to properly lube up the tip.

“Please…” His sub gives a disappointed moan at the loss of fingers, but he’s staring down at the prostate stimulator with wide, excited eyes. Castiel hasn’t explained the device to his sub yet, and he wonders if it would ramp up the anticipation.

“Before I insert this, I should tell you—” Castiel pauses long and suggestively, even licking his lips for effect. “See this tip? It’s naturally curved a few centimeters inward, so it can brush the sensitive spot of your prostate much more easily.  Let your doctor know if there’s any discomfort.” The sub is staring at him with dilated pupils, his breath shaky. “After slight pain, though, you should experience an intense and euphoric sense of pleasure. You will almost certainly be begging to come by the time I’m done with you.”

“Oh fuck, yes, Doctor, please.” There’s a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his expression is such an open state of desperation that Castiel has to look away and clear his throat. He refuses to come in his pants like a teenager, especially since these slacks were really expensive, but he hasn’t even inserted the instrument yet and his sub is already begging for more.

“Would you consider yourself currently aroused?” He hopes drawing out this “clinical” line of questioning might help him regain some of his control. Plus, he _loves_ teasing his needy little pet.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how aroused are—”

“Ten,” he subs interrupts, voice husky, “definitely a ten, Sir.”

Castiel smirks at the eagerness. “Then I should examine you right away, pet.”

He holds onto the end of the instrument and presses the bulbous head, generously covered in lube, against the man’s hole. He rubs it around the opening for several seconds, tantalizing and teasing, before finally pushing it forward. The sub’s breath hitches at the intrusion and Castiel can’t help himself, he moans hoarsely, his free hand fighting the urge to touch himself. Once the object has completely breached, disappearing into his sub’s needy hole, the remaining few inches are easy by comparison. Still, he still gives his sub several moments to gather himself. A few charged moments of deep breathing and whimpers are exchanged between them, and then Castiel rotates the device slowly until he has placed it just perfectly…

Dean cries out, “Oh, Sir, oh, right there, oh it feels so good…” He’s pulling against the leather straps, trying to fuck himself down on the device, but apart from an inch or two, he’s completely immobile thanks to the straps.

“How does it feel being at my mercy, pet?” Castiel moves the device around slightly in every direction, knowing constant attention to the prostate will make his sub come prematurely.

“Feels so fucking good, Sir, please don’t stop, please…”

“Your prostate appears incredibly sensitive,” Castiel notes, doing another quick swipe of the head that makes his sub shudder. “Do you think my tongue would elicit the same response? How about my cock?” The man whimpers at the implication, and Castiel finds the small switch and the end of instrument and turns on the vibrator function, using the lowest setting.

“Oh my fucking god,” the sub cries, the muscles in his stomach contracting. “Sir, oh, it feels so good, Sir, please, don’t stop…” His sub tends to babble when he’s on the cusp of coming, and though Castiel had hoped to drag it out longer, he’s not sure he can deny this gorgeous man anything at the moment. He’s reveling in this, overwhelmed that he gets to see someone so breathtaking come apart at his doing.

“Tell the doctor what you need,” he breathes, scooting so close between the sub’s parted legs that his face is almost grazing the stiff erection, precome pearling at the tip. “Let me take care of you and make you feel good.”

“T-touch me,” the sub begs, and Castiel obliges in an instant. His left hand isn’t his dominant one and he didn’t stop for the usual squeeze of the lube, but he’s way too invested in making his precious pet come _right now_ that he doesn’t stop to think. His large, warm hand wraps around the man’s cock and he angles the instrument until it’s hitting his prostate mercilessly, and his sub is the loudest he’s heard him yet, shouting some combination of “fuck” and “please” and “Sir” over and over again as he races towards a breathtaking orgasm. It’s the most enticing sight Castiel has ever witnessed, each time he sees his sub fully surrender and release, and the orgasm is ripped from him greedily as Castiel continues his ministrations, milking every last drop of come from the quickly softening cock. The sub whimpers when the attention turns almost painful, and Castiel cuts off the vibrator and lessens his grip on his pet’s cock. As he watches him bask in the afterglow, he places two fingers between the bone and the tendon of his sub’s left wrist, counting the number of beats in fifteen seconds intervals and then multiplying it by four.

“Your heart is racing very fast, pet,” he says, knowing he’s maybe leaning into this doctor facade too strongly, but he’s honestly having fun with it. “A hundred and eighty beats per minute—you must have enjoyed yourself.”

He doesn’t really expect a response to this random observation, but to his surprise, his sub chuckles. “For someone with a resting heart rate of sixty-five, that means I _very much_ enjoyed myself, Sir.”

Castiel blinks, somewhat in astonishment, wondering what sort of person has their resting heart rate memorized. In the daylight hours, his sub is probably an athlete or employed in the medical field, maybe both. There’s so much the dom wants to ask him, so many curiosities he has about who this gorgeous, funny, charming man is when they’re not at the B&B…but he swallows down his queries. Their arrangement is perfect, and he doesn’t want to cross boundaries that could end up ruining it. He’s made that error one too many times, so even though his current sub is by far the best and most interesting play partner he’s ever had, it would be unwise of him to spoil such a good thing.

Castiel cleans up the come from the man’s stomach, then wipes clean the useful device he aims to use again one day. Lastly, he discards the latex gloves, wiping his sweaty palms against his white coat.

“You still seem pleased, my pet,” he comments, undoing the straps and helping him out of the stirrups, stepping down off the table. “Go to the bed so I can relax you further.”

His sub takes a half step in that direction, but then he turns back to his dom, eyes on the floor as he thinks through something. Castiel is intrigued, and he steps closer so he can cup the man’s face in his hands. “Is there a reason you’re not on the bed yet?”

“Um…” The man is still looking down, and though Castiel had assumed it was a submissive stance for his benefit, he realizes the sub is eyeing his prominent erection. “What about you, Sir?”

The question catches him completely off-guard, and he’s fumbling to form an answer. Truth is, this scene was all about making his sub feel pampered and taken care of. In any other scene the man’s question might be misconstrued as entitled or demanding, but Castiel receives it exactly as it’s meant to be taken. A demonstration of tenderness, of care.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me, pet,” he finally says, hoping the quiver in his voice doesn’t betray him. Truth be told, he’s never really had a sub care about if he comes or not, and in the past, he’s had regular sex partners conveniently fall asleep the moment he gets them off. He’s not used to someone else wanting to give him pleasure beyond what they can receive from him afterwards.

“Please…” The sub finally tears his eyes away from the tent in Castiel’s pants and stares at his mouth, licking his own lips sensually. “Please, Sir, need to make you feel good…”

Castiel tries to rein in his incredulity, wondering how he ever thought another sub would do when _this man_ has been a member of the club for over a year now. He wants to say a silent prayer of thanks to every angel in heaven that they were finally brought together.

“On your knees, hands behind your back,” he instructs, attempting to find his lowest, most husky tone of voice. “It’s time for you to take your medicine. If you want to be my good boy, you’ll swallow every drop.”

The man is on his knees without any trace of hesitation, hands folded behind his back, mouth open and waiting. After a few quick strokes Castiel fucks into his mouth hard and rough, holding his head in position with a unrelenting grip in his hair, and the sub just moans around the cock in his mouth. He flutters his eyelashes, looking at his dom as if he’s never seen anything more arousing, and that’s what makes Castiel eventually close his eyes tight and come down the man’s throat. The sub swallows and licks his lips, as if he’s been given such a delicious offering, and the sight is so obscene that Castiel loses what little control he had and hauls the man to his feet, kissing him passionately and tasting himself on his tongue. He sucks down on his bottom lip before grasping him by the hips and walking them backwards towards the bed. This hadn’t been the plan for aftercare, not even close, but Castiel can never seem to stop kissing this man once they get started. They land softly on the mattress, lips still locked, sighing sweetly into each other’s mouths. He lowers himself down, his right hand keeping him planted while his left cradles the man’s head, and for a few minutes they’re just two lovers kissing each other deeply, profoundly…not just a dom and a sub, but something more.

Eventually the kisses slow and they’re laying on their sides facing each other, Castiel’s fingers tracing the outline of the man’s cheekbones, and he whispers, “You’re so gorgeous.”

The man blushes in response, biting his lip and looking away. “Would it be…okay…if I told you you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen?”

Castiel chuckles softly, knowing they might be crossing some boundaries today but feeling thankful that they can finally have a frank conversation. “I doubt that’s true,” he jokes.

“No, it is. Your hair, your lips, your eyes…” The man swallows, looking uncertain for a moment, before asking with some hesitancy, “Can I…ask you something?”

“Of course,” Castiel says easily, still in the afterglow of his orgasm.

“What’s your name?”

The question slams into Castiel like a freight train, hurtling him back into reality. That’s right—they’re in a BDSM arrangement, a contractual sexual exchange. _This isn’t a real relationship._ But god, he wants to tell this man his name. He wants to know _his_ name, and he wants to call him and talk to him outside of scenes, and he wants to see him more than just twice a month…

“I’m sorry,” he says somberly, hand still tracing his cheek. “I…I’m not supposed to…”

“No, god, I’m sorry.” The man pulls away, lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I-I knew that. I just got caught up in the moment.”

His voice sounds detached and far away, and it’s such a drastic change from the happy kisses they were exchanging moments ago, that Castiel says quietly, “Hey, look at me.”

The sub’s head turns minutely, and Castiel hates the emotions he sees reflected there: uncertainty, embarrassment, pain.

“I want to,” Castiel admits. “Can you do something for me, pet?”

Like a switch being turned back on, the man falls back into his submissive stance. “Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to repeat after me.” Castiel leans forward, littering the bottom of his chin with kisses. “My dom wants me more than he’s ever wanted anyone.”

The man gasps, goosebumps spreading across his bare chest. Castiel reaches down at the end of the bed and throws a soft blanket over him, snuggling close. “You…you do?”

“Remember your instructions,” Castiel reminds gently.

“Oh, yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, as if he’s in total disbelief that this could be remotely true. “My dom wants me more than he’s ever wanted anyone.”

“Good boy.” Castiel keeps his hands on his sub at all times—his cheek, his neck, his torso. He not only wants to reassure his sub, he wants him to _believe_ it. “My dom thinks about me everyday we’re apart.”

A scoff turns into a quiet hum when the man repeats, “My dom thinks about me everyday we’re apart.”

“My dom constantly touches himself to thoughts of me.”

The man swallows deeply, looking aroused enough to shoot for a round two. “My dom constantly touches himself to thoughts of me.”

“My dom thinks I’m sweet, intelligent, amusing, charming, and thoughtful.”

“I…” The man opens and closes his mouth, as if he’s going to argue that none of these attributes are true, but Castiel raises a firm eyebrow and he compiles. “My dom thinks I’m sweet, intelligent, amusing, charming, and thoughtful.”

Castiel continues this exercise for several minutes, confessing every feeling towards this breathtaking man that he’s been holding back for two months. By the end of it, the man is blushing and dazed and looking absolutely inundated with praise. “My good boy,” Castiel coos, rubbing the tip of their noses together before kissing him lightly on the lips. “You’ve been so good, you’ve earned a present.”

For the first time in front of his sub, he cracks open the cabinet holding his regular clothes, reaches inside and grabs his favorite maroon-colored zip-up hoodie. “I want you to have this,” he explains softly, “and anytime you need me, imagine me with you, holding you, being with you.”

His pet cradles the hoodie as if it’s a precious prize, and he grips it up and holds it close to his face, sighing into the fabric. “It smells like you,” he breathes, with wonder in his voice.

Castiel’s tempted to ask what he smells like, but his heart is already so full, he doesn’t know if he can handle the answer. “Of course it does,” he says with some amusement, trying to make the moment lighter. He reaches down and kisses the top of his head, stroking his cheek one more time, before whispering, “Our time is up.”

He’s not prepared for the melancholy he feels, watching his sub slip his clothes back on and leave, hoodie cradled in his hands. Castiel wonders if he should’ve asked him to reciprocate the gesture, because he’d love nothing more than to cuddle up with one of the man’s flannels and slip into his bed, imagining they’re still laying side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Medical Kink, Prostate Stimulator, Family Functions (the most triggering of all)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, friends!! It's your local neighborhood TCBaby stopping in with an update. We're so sorry to have missed last week, life has just been such a rollercoaster—one of our best friends was in the hospital for a while (she's better now, thankfully), CB started a new job (that's my ambitious bestie for you) and a whole host of other things have kept us super busy. In all the chaos we wanted to take our time with this chapter and make sure we got it right for you fine folk, which hopefully we accomplished. Hehe.
> 
> Happy reading!!

It’s the first week of June when Castiel beats his personal record. His hands are sweaty and shaking when he types:

FlyBoy83 10:02 AM >> **Eight-minute mile! Finally!**

Medic67 10:03 AM << **Holy shit dude, congrats**

Cas smiles at his friend’s encouraging response and tucks the phone back into his pocket without replying, hands on his knees, still panting. He should’ve started his run hours ago, but he has a rare Saturday off and he refuses to spend it waking up at six o’clock in the morning. The sun is beating down on him uncomfortably, the flat sidewalk growing increasingly warm, and sweat trickles down his forehead. It’s been exactly nine days since he last saw his sub, the green-eyed man who occupies much of his thoughts these days. The anticipation of their next scene is starting to build like a small fire in his belly, and he’s been tossing around a half-dozen ideas, but he’s conflicted about what direction to take them next. The truth is, despite his best efforts, the man has gotten under his skin in a way that has little to do with sex.

He walks back to his apartment leisurely, his light gray t-shirt and black shorts clinging to his skin. When he can no longer withstand the sensation of sweat dripping down his temples, he pulls his shirt up and mops off the perspiration, flashing his bare torso and ruffling his hair in the process. When he lowers the shirt back down, he sees his coworker, Hannah, sitting on the front steps of his apartment complex with a flustered look on her face. Castiel realizes she had caught a rather full glimpse of him, much more than he usually reveals in his medic uniform.

“Hannah,” he greets, somewhat warily. He likes Hannah just fine, but this _is_ his day off and he doesn’t want to think about work right now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The…farmer’s market.” Her voice is timid, a hand fluffing her thick bangs. “Remember? On Tuesday we said we’d go together?”

The memory is pretty dim in Castiel’s mind, considering it had been about three a.m. and in the middle of a loud helicopter when they made this tentative plan. Still, he feels guilty for completely forgetting.

“Right,” he says slowly. “Would you mind waiting for me to shower first? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She agrees and follows him up to his second-story apartment, sitting in the messy living room as he strips in the bathroom and turns on the faucet. He feels a hint of awkwardness, showering while someone who seems interested in him is only a few yards away, but he dismisses the thought sheepishly. Just because he’s nice and halfway decent-looking doesn’t mean everyone is into him, and it’s egotistical of him to make such assumptions.

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to relay the situation to his best friend, though.

Medic67 10:22 AM << **so besides running your ass off, what else is on your to do list today ?**

FlyBoy83 10:26 AM >> **Well, I was rather excited about having nothing to do, but…**

Medic67 10:27 AM << **oh no. there’s never a good but**

Medic67 10:28 AM << **i mean, unless it’s on someone hot ;)**

Castiel chuckles and rolls his eyes. Sometimes he thinks 67 is flirting with him, but based on his personality, he thinks his friend is just flirty by nature.

FlyBoy83 10:29 AM >> **It turns out I agreed to hang out with a coworker, who was waiting on my doorstep at the end of my run.**

Medic67 10:30 AM << **yikes, can u get out of it**

The shower has finally warmed up enough for Castiel’s liking, and he grabs a towel and arranges it on the hook. The past few showers he’s spent long and slow, daydreaming about his sub and coming all over the shower walls. But he has a guest in his apartment at the moment, plus he’s pressed for time, so there’s little chance of working through his sexual frustrations today.

FlyBoy83 10:31 AM >> **I don’t think so. Though, consider this a PSA: no one should trust plans I agree to in the middle of the night. I don’t do sleep-deprived very well.**

Medic67 10:32 AM << **duly noted. you’re a sleepy, untrustworthy bastard**

FlyBoy83 10:32 AM >> **And don’t you forget it.**

The next hour passes in a blur, with Castiel showering and dressing in record speed and then sliding into the passenger’s seat of Hannah’s car as they head towards Copley Square. The traffic is tedious and busy, but nothing they weren’t expecting, and they park a few blocks away, carrying empty tote bags in their arms. The produce is fresh and vividly colorful and Castiel’s stomach growls so loudly that Hannah laughs and nudges them towards a sandwich stand. All the surrounding benches are taken, so they stand against a column and eat their early lunches in companionable silence. He really does enjoy spending time with Hannah—she’s sweet, reliable, kind. An ideal coworker and friend.

“Can I ask you a question, Castiel?” she says suddenly, as he’s ungracefully licking sauce off his fingers. He nods and grunts in response, thinking about buying a fresh-squeezed glass of lemonade and justifying the off-diet treat because of his eight-minute mile. He’s distracted by his thoughts, which is why it startles him completely when she asks, “Are you seeing anyone?”

Their eyes met, and he’s not sure what expression he’s offering her. Deer-in-the-headlights comes to mind.

“I…” He swallows another bite of the dry sandwich, picturing a man slightly taller than him with sandy brown hair, eyes a stunning shade of green. “I am. Sort of. It’s…complicated.”

“Oh.” She frowns in disappointment but then glances back up, plastering a small smile on her face. “Hey, did you see the beekeeper’s booth? Didn’t you say you were almost out of raw honey?”

The rest of the afternoon passes better than Castiel expects, and he ends up with a haul of fresh veggies, two glass jars of honey, and even a bundle of fresh sunflowers to liven up his kitchen table. He chats with Hannah about work and books and tells funny stories about his brother, and it seems like they’re back to normal despite their earlier interaction. In the back of his mind, though, Castiel can’t help but wonder if he’s genuinely not interested in Hannah and simply used his sub as an excuse…or if he’s so infatuated by the man that he couldn’t imagine dating anyone right now. If it’s the latter, then Castiel knows that’s a dangerous place for him to be emotionally. They aren’t exclusive outside of the club, so technically, his sub could be dating someone, could have a serious boyfriend or girlfriend, could even have another dom on the side…

“Castiel?” Hannah is gripping the steering wheel lightly, putting the car in park outside of Cas’ apartment complex. He realizes he hasn’t spoken in several minutes, silently stewing. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” he says tightly, breathing heavily, feeling sick to his stomach. “Have a good rest of your day.” He grabs his bags and exits before she has a chance to extend their afternoon further, running up the stairs and into the safety of his apartment. He dumps all the bags and leans against the kitchen counter, his mind racing. What is his sub doing right now? Who is he with? Does he just consider Castiel his kinky, twice monthly fuck? A blip on his radar, and meanwhile, he’s quickly becoming the person Castiel looks forward to seeing the most?

He’s dialing the number to the B&B with fumbling hands before he can fully process what he’s doing or why he’s doing it. He doesn’t recognize the person who picks up, but he asks for Billie in a strangled tone. He eyes the fresh cut flowers, knowing he should put them in water, and it makes him feel more in-control when he has a task to focus on. He’s searching his cabinet for his one and only vase when she finally picks up.

“This is Billie,” she says breezily, and Castiel breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hello, it’s Castiel Novak,” he says formally, and she chuckles.

“I know who you are, Cas. We’re on a first name basis, remember?” she reminds him gently. “What can I do for you?”

Castiel opens his mouths to speak, then closes it again, wondering if he resembles a gaping fish. “I…” He fills the vase up with water, then searches for something to cut the thick stalks with. “I need my sub’s phone number, please.”

The request shocks them both, and Billie exhales quietly. “You know I can’t do that, honey.”

“But I’m…” _An insane, possessive bastard who can’t stop thinking about him,_ Castiel thinks self-deprecatingly. Calling was a mistake now, and he knows it. “Never mind. I’m sorry for for bothering you.”

“Castiel,” she says, her voice more firm, “do you have time to come in today, so we can talk?”

He breathes heavily, wondering if he’s about to get kicked out of the club for being an overzealous dom. And if he is, he’ll never see his beautiful sub again… “Am I in trouble?”

She laughs over the line. “Of course not. First of all, you’re one of our most recommended play partners. You’re polite, courteous, and always pay on time. And after all this time, you and I are friends, aren’t we?”

He cuts the stalks, making every incision perfectly straight in a way that he finds aesthetically pleasing. “I’d certainly like to think so.”

“Then come see me,” she requests softly. “I’ll be here all day.”

***

“Come on Dean, almost there!” Sam encourages him as he struggles to finish his final push up before collapsing on the carpet.

“Fuck me… I quit...this is where I live now,” he groans cheek pressed to ground, body aching.

“I’ll make sure to adjust your address to the living room floor.” Sam laughs reaching out a hand to him.

“I couldn’t possibly stand,” he moans closing his eyes.

“Fine, have it your way, but you gotta drink something, okay?” a Gatorade bottle comes into view by his face. He rolls over onto his back and catches his breath before he sits up and opens the bottle.

“You’re gonna ace boot camp, you know. All this work will pay off,” Sam adds, sitting on the couch near him, phone in hand.

He takes a long swig of Gatorade before replying back against the arm of the couch, “yeah I should have set a goal that would involve a lot less sweating.” Sam doesn’t answer him and he glances up to see him typing away furiously on his phone grin on his face. “You talkin’ to that new girl of yours?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I am.” He purses his lips a little in that same way he used to do when they were kids and Sam got his first crush in school.

“So not to sound too much like Ellen here, but when do I get to meet this mystery girl?” Sam has never kept his girlfriends a secret from him in the past and he is starting to worry what it is he doesn’t want Dean to know.

“Soon, I promise, okay? Just trying to talk her into dinner.”

“Talk her into dinner? She got a problem with meeting your family, Sam? ‘Cause I gotta say that's not a great sign, man.” Dean frowns at the idea.

“It’s not like that, Dean, and you’re one to talk, am I ever gonna meet this online friend of yours you never stop talking to? Or how about this hook up you are always taking off to meet for hours at a time?” Sam counters like the true lawyer he is.

“Look, FlyBoy and I are just friends and we decided to keep it anonymous, alright? And my other hook up, well…” He blanks for a moment when he thinks of his blue-eyed dom and the sweatshirt currently laid across his pillow. “It’s just about sex, okay?” The second the words leave his mouth it has a bitter, wrong taste to it. Is it really just about sex with his dom? He’s pretty sure it feels different than any other dom he’s been with, their connection feels so much bigger than that. But then again, the guy still wouldn’t give Dean his name, so the line in the sand is staying firm. Just about sex then.

“You know, Dean, you're one of the bravest people I have ever known. Never afraid to tackle something new or take on a new challenge. But when it comes to putting yourself out there, to trying to make something more for yourself with someone, you chicken shit out. Take a chance already, see if it can go further, what’s the worst that can happen?”

_I get rejected? I get turned down? It’s confirmed that I am too messed up to find someone who actually fits just right for me?_

Sam snorts when he doesn’t reply. “Wanna make a bet? If I bring home my girl and introduce her to you, then you need to tell one of these guys your real name and that you’re into him.”

“That’s stupid, Sammy,” he grunts, frowning, and instantly can’t think of who he wants to reach out to more, FlyBoy who he doesn’t even know what he looks like, or his dom, who he doesn’t know anything about.

“Deal?” Sam asks again, not letting it drop.

“Fine… Deal,” he mumbles, standing up with wince of pain, “I get first shower.” With that he leaves his brother on the couch, his mind reeling with what he just agreed to. Of course, Sam doesn’t know just last night he tried to do just that and get his dom’s name. He was a little shaken by the whole thing and if it wasn’t for his dom’s insistence on repeating back all those words, he thinks he may have dropped pretty hard. As it was, he felt better than expected the next day.

Once out of the shower, he heads to his room, pulling on comfy clothes and can’t resist putting on the sweatshirt from his dom. Something about wearing it just makes him feel calmer, and protected. He pulls up the signal app on his phone and types out a message to FlyBoy.

Medic67 2:13 PM >> **Finished! All my muscles are officially on fire**

He flops back on the bed waiting for a reply. Minutes pass and he figures his friend must be busy. He breathes in the scent from the hoodie and smiles, wondering about those mysterious blue eyes. He wonders if he should call and talk to Pam about his last scene. She was always good at helping him figure out what he really wants. She had encouraged him to explore and open up his kink list. He pulls up her number and dials as he pulls the hood over his head.

“Dean! How are you, handsome?” Pam greets him lightly, always that smile to her tone.

“Good. How’s the club?”

“Same as always, sugar, but you really called to ask about business?”

He shakes his head, knowing Pam never likes to beat around the bush, well not that bush anyway. “Uh, yeah. I wanted some advice, actually.”

“Figured, lay it on me,” she replies with a soft sigh.

“Things are going well with my new dom, like really well,” and fuck is it ever, he’s never felt so turned on in his life. “Do relationships ever work out with other club members?”

“Are you asking if I have any dom meets sub and they fall in love and live happily ever after stories?”

“Pam,” he scolds, “this is serious.”

“Yes it is,” she answers more cooly, “look, of course people fall for each other in the club. People form strong bonds engaging in these kinds of relationships. The amount of trust and intimacy shared... I have known many who come to club to play and end up finding more. I don’t want to give you false hope here, Dean, often times because of the intensity of these relationships it’s not uncommon for one party to become infatuated with the other and it is not always reciprocated.”

His stomach drops at the thought. The last thing he wants to be is some kind of infatuated stalker to his dom. He and his last dom had exchanged names and were even still friends but he guesses he can see how not everyone would be comfortable with that. He should have kept his damn mouth shut. “I get it Pam, sorry to bug you about it.”

He feels like he should go crawl into a hole when Pam gives a long sigh on the other line. “Don’t turn this in on yourself, Dean, I mean it. You know we keep things confidential but if both parties choose to share their information, that is their decision. Give yourself some time, alright? I know for a fact how much he has enjoyed your scenes seeing as he immediately books a room for next time after every session. Take some advice from me—maybe if you let him in a little, he may feel more willing to do the same.”

He mulls that over a second. “Yeah, I guess I could do that, a little.”

“Don’t go telling him your entire life story, just show him the Dean I know at the end of your scenes, and if he doesn’t reciprocate, honey, don’t take that on yourself. You are a beautiful sub and even better hot stuff.”

“Thanks Pam, really. I better go.” He feels a muddled mix of insecurity and hope all at once.

“Bye, sugar. Call if you need me,” she replies before hanging up. Dean pulls down the hood and settles in for a short nap before he heads in for his night shift, the smell and warmth of the hoodie soothing him to sleep.

***

Castiel hasn’t been in Billie’s office in months, possibly a year—not since he was forced to terminate the contract with his previous sub-turned-stalker, Becky. Being back here makes him feel anxious, the matte black furniture sleek and eye-catching, while Billie settles into an office chair and smiles at him. She’s been the unofficial guide for all things dom-related since Castiel joined the club, and as embarrassed as he is to _need_ her guidance, he’s incredibly thankful for it.

“So,” she says patiently, after a few beats of silence, “you and your sub…” Castiel shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and he must look so on-edge and miserable that Billie chuckles at his obvious nerves. “Will you relax, Castiel? You’re not on trial here.”

“You _did_ summon me here, Your Honor,” Castiel replies cheekily, if a bit unhelpfully, and he sighs when she gives him a flat look. “I’m sorry, Billie. I find myself…” He brings a hand up, grasping in the air.

“Overwhelmed?” Her expression is open, nonjudgmental, and Castiel nods.

“I’m not exactly sure how it happened,” he admits quietly. “After…after _last time_ , I knew to keep my distance. I knew not to get so emotionally invested.” Even admitting that aloud feels like a betrayal, not to himself but to his sub, the gorgeous man with green eyes and a stunning smile. He can’t figure out why he’s so loyal to someone he barely knows. “But this is different. _He’s_ different.”

“Have you crossed any lines? Anything I need to know about?” Billie raises an eyebrow.

“What? No, no.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I didn’t even give him my name when he asked for it.” He can’t keep the regret out of his voice, and he bites his lip, looking away.

“But you wanted to,” Billie sighs, reading easily between the lines, and Castiel just nods again.

“I know how this sounds, Billie, but…” He glances back up, peering deeply into her brown eyes. “What we have…it’s amazing. Special. I’ve never seen or felt anything like it. I honestly think our connection could endure beyond the limits of a BDSM arrangement.”

Billie softens minutely but doesn’t blink, and Castiel scrubs an impatient hand against his cheek. “I sound like an idiot.”

“No, you don’t. I promise, you don’t.” Her voice is genuine, but there’s an edge there he can’t quite place. “Castiel, from what I know about you, you’re reliable and determined. Qualities that I deeply value. But you’re also compassionate to a fault, and impulsive when you care about someone. It’s how you found yourself in a predicament with your previous sub.”

Castiel crosses and uncrosses his ankles, fingers raking across the denim surface of his jeans. He wants to make a dry comment about how he’s not paying Billie to be his therapist—certainly something his best friend, ‘67, would say—but he realizes that he’s technically not paying her at all. Not directly at least. She’s initiating this conversation for his own wellbeing, and he should try and take the lifeline she’s offering.

“Your point?” he says finally, though a bit surly.

“Are you falling for this man?” Billie asks directly, hands clasped on her desk.

“I don’t know,” Castiel offers weakly. “I…I think…” He swallows a dry lump in his throat. “Maybe.”

“Well then.” She flips open a folder on her desk, and Castiel sees his first and last name flash on the side. “You’re a little under halfway through your six month contract. Is that correct?” Castiel nods again.

“In that case, here’s my proposition for you.” Her tone of voice is all business and Castiel straightens up his chair, heart pounding. “I want you to try and stay within the parameters of this contract. These privacy clauses are here for _you_ , for your protection.” He opens his mouth to argue but Billie continues. “If you can do that successfully, when your contract ends, Pamela and I will…mediate a conversation between you two.”

Castiel narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You’ll…what? Play matchmaker?”

“Only if your sub is interested,” Billie adds slowly. “There’s always the chance that he won’t be, and you’ll have to accept that and move on.”

There’s a knot the size of Texas tightening in his chest at just the thought, but Castiel nods dimly anyways. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Continue on as you always have,” Billie says breezily. “Maybe try to make your scenes less heavy and more fun, lighthearted. Try an outside-the-box scenario you both would enjoy. Don’t take yourself too seriously.”

Castiel huffs impatiently, not sure that’s the most practical and viable advice, but then a thought occurs to him. “I have five days until our next scene,” he tells her, every word measured. “Do you think…Billie, you could help me with something?”

She closes his folder with a grin. “Now you’re talking.”

One phone call and twenty minutes later, Castiel exits Billie’s office feeling significantly lighter. Pamela is manning the front receptionist desk, pleasantly whispering, “Bye, sugar. Call if you need me,” in a sweet and intimate way. From what he can tell, Pam does an excellent job of offering counsel to the subs, and he hopes whoever was on the other line is feeling reassured now. She drops the phone back on the cradle and eyes Castiel curiously. Maybe he imagines it, but it’s almost as if she opens her mouth to say something—but decides against it at the last minute.

“Have a good day,” she calls out, and Castiel tells her the same. On the way to the car he checks his phone and sees he’s missed a message from Medic67, grinning as he replies.

Medic67 2:13 PM << **Finished! All my muscles are officially on fire**

FlyBoy83 3:04 PM >> **Congrats! Though I have to say, you pushing yourself to work out today is clearly an indication that you’re intimidated by my eight-minute mile…**

Medic67 3:05 PM >> **you wish, old man**

Castiel throws open the door to his Lincoln with a frown, titling his head sideways.

FlyBoy83 3:06 PM >> **“Old man”?**

FlyBoy83 3:04 PM >> **Exactly how old do you think I am?**

He stares at his dashboard, a mixture of amused and defensive as he waits for the reply.

Medic67 3:05 PM << **i dunno, at least 87**

Castiel snorts despite himself. His friend really loves needling him, he’s noticed. It’s strange that they’ve been talking all day, everyday, for months now…but on paper, they know so little about each other.

FlyBoy83 3:06 PM >> **Ha, ha.**

FlyBoy83 3:06 PM >> **Try twenty-nine.**

Medic67 3:07 PM << **oh cool. I’m 27**

Castiel nods appreciatively, feeling slight heart palpitations at the confession but not understanding why. So what—his online best friend is a twenty-seven-year-old medic in good shape whose also interested in men. No big deal. It’s not monumental, exchanging such basic information, but it seems groundbreaking in a way Cas can’t quite name. Lately, it seems he’s testing the boundaries of all the most important relationships in his life. He feels like he’s on the precipice of something big, a life change he can’t quite name, but he shrugs it off on turns the radio on, mentally arranging the details of their next scene..

***

A few days later Castiel is thrumming with excitement, leaning against the padded wall and waiting for the door to open. There’s a single chair in the middle of the room, but he has no plans to sit in it. He goes back and forth, double and triple checking everything, and he’s glad he had the whole day off to truly embrace the most dominant sides of himself.

It’s surely going to come in handy today.

He’ll be juggling more elements than ever, but if he can stay focused, he thinks it may be the most memorable scene his stunning sub has ever had. As if on cue, the door cracks open and the green-eyed man, looking breathtaking in simple Levi’s and a red henley, crosses the threshold. He takes in Castiel’s stance on the opposite wall, as if already surprised to find him standing there, and Cas tries to wipe the pending eagerness off his face. He’s been thinking nonstop about this man for two weeks, and now he’s finally _here_. The man’s fingers immediately fumble towards the hem of his shirt, but Castiel shakes his head.

“I’ll be undressing you today,” he growls, taking definite steps forward until he’s crowding his sub’s personal space. The man smells so good, like leather and spice and whiskey, and he wants to nip and lick his neck, wants to breathe him in deep. “I have a very special surprise for my gorgeous little slut. Would you like to know what it is?”

The sub’s eyes are cast down, cheeks already turning a beautiful shade of red. “Whatever you want, Master.”

Castiel counted on this. His sub loves to make him decide, which is never a burden for Castiel, but a gift. He leans in closely, his lips tickling the other man’s ear as he whispers, “According to your chart, my beautiful, needy little pet considers himself quite the exhibitionist. Is that correct?”

He feels the man’s chest rise and fall with anticipation. “Yes, Master.”

“Though sadly, you’ve never been able to have the full experience. You’ve never had a dom take care of you, no one as generous as me.” He wets his lips and grazes them on the sub’s cheek, chin, neck. “How would you feel if I said someone was about to come into this room, sit in that chair, and watch me fuck you?”

The sub whimpers, his breathes suddenly erratic, and he leans against Castiel as if he can’t hold himself upright.

“I would say…” He licks his lips and the dom wants nothing more than to feel that tongue in his mouth, on his neck, against his cock. “Please, Master, _please_.”

***

Dean leans back a little, letting his master shoulder some of his weight as he soaks in his dom’s words. Someone is going to watch him? Going to watch his dom do dirty things, depraved things, to him? The thought makes Dean’s cock swell in his jeans and his palms sweat.

“You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you? Show just how good you are for me? What a beautiful little cockslut you are?” The words are whispered against the shell of his ear, all hot and rough.

“Yes Master, anything Master, gonna be so good, so good, I promise,” Dean pleads, breathy and needy already—and fuck, they haven’t even started yet.

“Good boy,” the dom purrs, fingertips gently pushing on Dean’s shoulder blades, steadying him before moving away. Dean keeps his head still and eyes down as his dom moves to the bed and comes back to stand in front of him.

“You may look,” he says, and there’s a hint of teasing in his voice. Dean brings his eyes up to see a black leather collar in his left hand. His dom’s right hand holds out a gold tag attached to the front and Dean looks to read the words: _Property of C_ , in beautiful soft script. “C,” what does “C” stand for?

“I want to be very clear, pet, that while I will let someone watch me take you apart piece by piece, that you are still… all… mine… Only _I_ will be enjoying your body, do you understand?” Dean shivers and feels something settle in him at the word _mine_ , a kind of peace.

“Please, master I… please?” He doesn’t know what else to say, how very much he needs that collar—needs to be owned, to be cared for and thoroughly used up.

“Yes, my sweet boy.” His master smiles at him then with something a touch more genuine, like a glimpse behind the mask to man beneath. Blue eyes shine with lust and pride and desire as steady fingers fasten the leather around his throat. He swallows, feeling the collar move, and fingers run to check its tightness. He lifts his chin high to allow his dom to look and feels the brush of lips over his Adam’s apple. Soft and teasing, he lets out a small whimper at the touch before they pull back.

A knock at the door pulls both their attentions and Dean’s heart rabbits in his chest. “Be still, pet, we will be using names we have chosen for each other, but you will refer to him as ‘sir’.” Will Dean know this person? Is it another dom? His master moves to answer. A man steps into the room and Dean doesn’t dare glance above his knees but he hears the click of boots on the hardwood.

“Knight, good to see you again. Come in,” his master welcomes the other man.

“Clarence, pleasure as always for the opportunity to watch you work.” The man’s voice is deep yet soft as he moves to the chair in front of Dean.

“I just had to take the chance to show off my beautiful, responsive little slut.” His master chuckles from just behind his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of a beard and longer, wavy salt and pepper hair as the man called Knight settles in the chair.

“He is a pretty thing, isn’t he? Just look at those gorgeous, cocksucking lips,” the man purrs, and Dean can almost feel the eyes on him.

“They feel as good as they look,” his master confirms. “Arms up, pet.” Dean complies and feels his shirts pulled up and off, exposing his hard nipples and pebbled skin. He twitches a little with the urge to cover up, but the hand on his back soothes him. That is…until those hands move around to his front and start undoing his fly.

He feels his heart hammering and the lump in his throat when he remembers the panties he put on today. But there’s no going back now as his jeans are pulled to the floor, and he steps out of them feeling a red flush heat his skin. The man gives a low whistle.

“Well, well, now isn’t that a pretty picture.” The man smiles, and Dean stands as still and tall as he can. He’d chosen a white lace thong with a blue satin bow that sits just above his ass. And if it happened to be in the eye color of his favorite dom, who could blame him?

“Told you he was the loveliest bitch you ever saw, with the neediest holes.” His master preens, walking to stand in front of him without blocking the man’s view. “Show Knight here how good you suck for me.” Two fingers press against Dean’s bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth, taking both fingers in all the way down and as far as he can, sealing his lips and sucking. He teases his tongue along pads of his dom’s fingers and moans softly at the feel of them.

“Fuck, that is gorgeous. Bet he just loves something stretching those lips, doesn’t he?” the other man huffs out, and Dean can see the bulge in his jeans. He feels a rush of pride at having already turned the man on.

“Oh yes, I often keep him gagged while I fuck him because he hates to be empty, like a good little slut. Of course, then I can’t hear all the needy whore sounds he makes for me.” His master pumps his fingers in and out and Dean’s mouth pools with spit.

“He a vocal bitch for you, then?”

“Oh yes, very vocal, begs at the drop of a hat.”

“Bet it’s even better when you make him scream.” The other man’s voice drops low and dangerous and it sends another shiver prickling over Dean’s skin, and oh god yes, make him scream, make him scream.

“I think he’s on board with that plan. Look at that weeping cock, making such a mess out of those pretty panties already. He’s wetter than a real bitch.” Dean flushes, knowing his cock is now hard and leaking onto his lace. “What do you think, Knight? Should I warm up this skin a bit before I plow this fine ass?”

“Please master, please!” he begs, but it comes out garbled with the fingers in his mouth.

“Don’t beg _me,_ pet. Knight is the one who’s deciding if you get a red ass tonight.” The fingers retreat from his mouth and begging falls out of him in a rush.

“Please sir, please, I need it, please?”

“Hmmm. Tell me what you want your master to do, pretty bitch?” the man replies teasingly, and bloody hell, Dean is going to have to say it.

“Please let master spank me?”

“Spank what?”

He gulps and decides to go for broke. “Please let him spank my needy ass, sir. Please let him spank me, sir.”

“Who could say no to that?” the man replies, and he glances at his dom who’s smiling at him with a mischievous smirk.

“Alright pet, face the end of the bed and bend over so we can see this needy ass of yours.”

Dean moves quickly and bends over at the waist, spreading his feet apart and bracing himself on his elbows, arching his lower back. He gets a hum of approval from his master and feels a hand braced on his lower back, firm and steadying.

The first blow falls without warning and he gasps at the impact, hot and stinging. His master sets a relentless pace right off the bat, smacking one cheek then the other, moving down to his seat bones and thighs. The other man suggests spots to hit and they chuckle when Dean yelps at a particularly hard smack. His head drops to the comforter as his skin burns and stings.

“Come on, pet, don’t hold back all those whore sounds for our guest now,” his master chides him, and he let out a loud groan at another smack. Once he let’s go, he’s whimpering and shaking, tears pricking his eyes. He’s overwhelmed with the sensation and the feeling of eyes all over him, watching him come undone.

“Bet you wish you’d gotten such a slutty whore for a sub, don’t you?” His master laughs, pausing to rub his hand over his reddened skin.

“You weren’t lying, that’s the neediest ass I ever saw. Would love to feel him riding my cock.” The other man’s voice is breathier now.

“Too bad for you the only cock he’s taking is mine,” his master all but growls, pressing his denim clad erection against Dean’s now stinging skin, making him moan like the whore they are calling him.

“Please fuck me master, please,” he whines, pressing back against him. Fingers dig into his hips and he whimpers at the bruises they’ll leave there, the marks of his owner. He wants them to remember him, so he can press his fingers to them and think of how good his master made him feel.

“Panties down just below your cheeks, and spread them nice and wide for me so we can see this needy hole or yours,” his master growls, and Dean leans his face on the bed and reaches back to comply. Spreading his cheeks with his fingers, there is a quick snap of a bottle cap and a lube-soaked finger rubs at his sensitive rim.

“Please Master, fuck, feels so good, Master,” he huffs out at the teasing circles, his body flexing and relaxing at the touch.

“He’s like a bitch in heat, isn’t he?”

“You aren’t wrong, and like a good bitch he doesn’t need any prep, do you sweetheart?” He feels the finger pull away and the press of his dom’s favorite lube gun to his hole, thin and slick and  he squirms as it fills him. He feels wet and messy already and loves when his dom takes him like this, hot and hard.

“So wet for you, Master, so ready,” he whines, pulling his cheeks farther apart even as the skin burns in protest from the spanking.

“Yes, you are my perfect good boy,” he praises, as the head of his slick cock pushes in. He rocks into him back and forth, filling him up. It feels huge and the stretch is intense as Dean’s body adjusts and his dom just keeps rocking back and forth, humming in pleasure, getting deeper with each push. “So fucking tight, such a perfect greedy hole sucking me in,” he moans out above him.

“Fuck him good, Clarence, split the bitch open,” the other man mocks, right as his dom bottoms out. He doesn’t move for a moment though, letting Dean adjust and settle. He feels impossibly full and hard and exposed and he can’t believe he’s really letting someone watch him get bent over and fucked like a bitch in heat, but here he is, loving every second of it.

“Please, Master,” he whines and pushes back, and that’s all the sign his dom needs before he starts thrusting into him. It’s a punishing pace, hard and wild and he feels the heat of his master’s skin on his ass and a loud slap as hips slam into him.

“Grab the bed if you need to, whore, but don’t you dare move another muscle.” His dom growls, and Dean quickly braces himself against the bed, shivering at the fierce lust in his voice.

“You can fuck harder than that,” the other man taunts, “bitch was made to be fucked, wasn’t he?”

“Feels fucking amazing, so wet and grips my cock just right.” His master moans again, picking up speed. “Love getting fucked, don’t you my little slut? Just love getting stuffed full and rode hard… goddamn and it’s all mine, no one else gets to feel this, do they? No matter how much they want to.”

“Yours, Master. All yours,” Dean gasps out, feeling totally consumed.

“Damn right you are,” the dom huffs out and leans over his back, slamming down hard right into Dean’s prostate. He cries out at the shocks it sends ricocheting through his body. He can’t take much more before he collapses under the onslaught, soaring higher and higher with each thrust into him. “Come for me, come now!” and just like that he’s spilling hard and filling the white lace, shaking and gripping the bedding like his life depends on it.

His dom moans out a breathy, “Fuck!” before he’s stilling behind him, hands tight on his hips, and it’s the only thing keeping him from falling forward. He drags in a few labored breaths, body still shaking with the aftershocks as his dom carefully pulls out of him.

“So good pet, so perfect for me, absolutely perfect,” his dom sighs, rubbing a circle on his back as he tries to regain some control.

“Thank you, Clarence, for letting me watch. He is the truly the envy of every dom here, you lucky bastard,” the man remarks as he stands up from his chair.

“I am incredibly lucky. Thank you, Knight, for helping us tonight. And what do you say, pet?”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean slurs out, pretty proud he can form a sentence at this point.

“Pleasure’s all mine.” The man does a strange little bow before he ducks out of the room. He can’t help but sag a little in relief now that it’s just him and his dom.

“Come now my pet, up in the bed and panties off, let me get you all cleaned up.” His voice is soft now and Dean only nods, climbing into the bed and flopping down, feeling more wanted and used and owned then he ever has in his whole life and it feels pretty damn amazing. “Happy, sleepy pet aren’t you? You did amazing. You are best sub I have ever known,” he purrs, kissing his shoulder. Dean can’t help but whine and reach out, pulling the man toward him until he’s laughing and gathering Dean into his arms. He holds on to the moment of bliss and the man who gave it to him, and thinks he’s the luckiest sub on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Exhibitionism


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
> CB here, it's fitting that I am posting this two glasses of wine in to my evening (you will know what I mean shortly). Hopefully we surprise you with this one, TCBaby always keeps me on my toes and I hope that never changes. This has just been so much fun writing these two blindly love struck idiots with one of my favorite people in the world. Did I mention the wine? Yes, well feeling all the love my kinky friends, hope you enjoy, see you in the comments!  
> Love,  
> CB  
> *** CHAPTER KINK TAGS POSTED AT THE BOTTOM ***

Castiel leans over the oven, sweat gathering at his hairline as he sighs.

“Great,” he mutters, glaring at the partially sunken chocolate cake cooling on the stove-top. He pokes experimentally against the surface of it, and it’s somehow both mushy and overcooked at the same time, which seems…illogical at best. No one can be _this_ bad at baking.

He pats away the gritty texture from his fingers and onto the surface of his jeans, then pulls up the recipe again on his phone, double-checking the details. He’d done everything correctly, and he can’t figure out why his cake does not resemble the picture whatsoever.

FlyBoy83 10:03 AM >> **It’s official.**

FlyBoy83 10:03 AM >> **Me + baking = total disaster**

He barely has to wait before his best friend is already typing his response.

Medic67 10:04 AM << **i’m sure it’s not that bad**

Castiel snorts and takes an overhead picture of his finished product, realizing belatedly that the knees of his jeans and his socked feet are in the photo. Oh well, he thinks, hitting send.

FlyBoy83 10:05 AM >> { **picture uploaded}**

Medic67 10:06 AM << **oh…wow**

Medic67 10:07 AM << **ya know, i’m sleeping today for night shift, but fuck if that isn’t gonna give me nightmares**

FlyBoy83 10:07 AM >> **ha ha ha**

FlyBoy83 10:07 AM >> **Also, I’m sorry, I totally forgot you worked tonight. Ignore me. I’ll figure this out…**

Medic67 10:08 AM << **no way, your brother’s bday cake hangs in the balance. though that candy basket you got him prolly has the sugar of five cakes**

Castiel laughs and washes his hands before replying, wiping them dry with a small towel before sitting at the kitchen table to regroup. He has no idea what convinced him to volunteer to bake Gabriel’s birthday cake from scratch, rather than their usual store-bought route, but ‘67 had convinced Castiel last week that he could do this.

But he can’t, in fact, _do_ this.

FlyBoy83 10:10 AM >> **True.**

FlyBoy83 10:11 AM >> **Maybe it’s time to hit up a bakery, like I should’ve done three hours ago…**

Medic67 10:12 AM << **no freaking way man**

Medic67 10:12 AM << **i’m gonna help you. what recipe are you using??**

Castiel smiles down at his phone, despite his current panic and irritation at his severely lacking baking skills, and sends ‘67 a link to the recipe. A few minutes pass and Castiel allows himself to daydream—what if his best friend came here to help him bake? What if they met face to face for the first time? He tries picturing what the anonymous man must look like, mid-twenties and sturdily built, but all he can gather is a vague image of a man, generic as a stock photo. His mind wanders, and he pictures someone else here instead…his stunning sub, the gorgeous green-eyed man who never leaves his thoughts for long. He pictures them doing scenes at home, imagines feeding the sub with his fingers, wonders if they would enjoy food play, like chocolate syrup dripping on his bare abdomen as Castiel licks it clean.

He gets so carried away with his fantasy that he’s half-hard and totally ignoring his phone, and when he looks back down he has a string of unread messages.

Medic67 10:20 AM << **ok buddy, i hate to tell you but this recipe is BS. wrong flour and weird ass bake times is why your cake looks like it got ran over by a truck**

Medic67 10:21 AM << **whats your email address? i’m gonna send you my recipe, it’s damn good, I make it for sammy every year for his bday**

Medic67 10:25 AM << **where you’d go?? Tell me you didn’t pull a sylvia plath dude. step away from the oven**

Castiel rolls his eyes, laughing. He thinks for a moment…this would certainly be crossing a boundary, since his email address contains parts of his real name. But what does he have to fear from ‘67? If his friend is secretly some stalker, he’s evidently been playing the long game by pretending to be Castiel’s best friend for over eight months now.

FlyBoy83 10:26 AM >> **I’m safe from the oven…for now.**

FlyBoy83 10:27 AM >> **Thank you so much. Truly. My email is james.cnovak41@gmail.com**

Medic67 10:28 AM << **cool, check your inbox**

Relief and curiosity flood through Castiel as he clicks on his email app and pulls up the message, a forwarded recipe from ImpalaIsMyBaby@gmail.com. Castiel chuckles goodnaturedly at the email address, wondering how is friend can be both the “manly” man obsessed with his vintage muscle car, and a bisexual man who prides himself on his baking skills. Cas hums thoughtfully to himself, supposing that he shouldn’t try to categorize people, especially not when he himself doesn’t really fit society’s standards of what a “man” should be. Sure, he’s confident and dominating in bed, keeps a cool head in a crisis, and can bench press a heavy weight for his lithe frame. But he’s also terrible at repairing things, would always choose a drama over a cheesy action film, and has spent more than one weekend home alone with a good book and a glass of wine. If ‘67 can be a complex person, masculine and feminine and everything in between, why can’t Castiel?

FlyBoy83 10:29 AM >> **Thanks again, you’re a lifesaver. I have just enough leftover ingredients to try your recipe.**

Medic67 10:31 AM << **sweet. Gonna grab some Zzzs, but hmu if you need me**

A few hours later, Castiel could practically _kiss_ ‘67…which might be intensely awkward, if his best friend is secretly unattractive, but Cas could care less because he actually did it—he baked a cake that is not only solid, but looks like it might taste good. He lets the cake cool before icing it with buttercream frosting, which looks a little messy but it’ll work, and then showers and dresses. He has no idea what to wear this evening, seeing as he expected a quiet gathering with cake and present, but according to the text chain he’s in, the birthday boy has decided he’d rather go clubbing after dinner.

“Dammit,” Castiel mumbles, wishing he could change his brother’s mind, but knows it’s technically _his_ day and they should do whatever he prefers. None of Cas’ go-to outfits are very club appropriate, and after fifteen minutes of sorting through all the options in his closet, he decides to do something he never, ever does.

He pulls out one of his dom costumes.

It’s one he wore to a scene months ago—form-fitting black t-shirt, dark denim jeans, heavy black combat boots. He ties the laces and stands back up, walking to the bathroom in a vain attempt to tame his messy hair. He looks into the bathroom mirror, reaching for his toothbrush, when he glances down and spies the boots again…the image of his sub rutting up against him, head thrown back in ecstasy, rising the surface of his mind. He feels himself flush, cheeks reddening, and spits out the toothpaste. Wearing this out and about, in his everyday life, is quite possibly a terrible idea. But it’s also pretty exciting, a slight buzz of adrenaline and arousal simmering beneath the surface. It almost feels like he’s scening in a way, being back in this getup. He goes back into the kitchen to take a picture of the finished cake for ‘67, his jeans and boots in partial view again at the bottom of the picture, and he realizes it’s going to be a challenge to keep himself in check all night. All he wants to do is take himself in-hand and daydream about his sub, and honestly, it’s ridiculous how much he masturbates between scenes now. When it comes to the gorgeous, green-eyed mystery man, he can never get enough.

Gabriel chooses to keep their dinner reservation, at the very least, and they all gather around a long table at an Asian fusion restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about keeping Castiel’s homemade cake in the kitchen and bringing it out at the end of the meal, but the hostess eventually relents. The guest list is significantly larger than Castiel had anticipated, and after wishing Gabriel a mumbled but heartfelt “happy birthday,” he pulls out the only available chair. He ends up wedged between his cousins, Michael and Luke, and across from Gabriel’s ex-girlfriend, Kali. His cousins are generally awful people and he blocks them out for most of dinner, chatting pleasantly with Kali and trading medical stories since she’s a nurse. He isn’t quite sure why Kali and his brother aren’t together right now, considering Gabriel is planted on her right side, elbows brushing, but that’s none of his business. Several of Gabe’s friends from work are on the other end of the table, but apart from some casual small talk Castiel doesn’t engage with them much. They all have several rounds of drinks, but he just nurses a few beers.

The cake is delivered and the entire restaurant joins them in singing happy birthday, and then Gabriel is digging a fork into his freshly sliced piece of cake looking pleasantly surprised.

“Holy crap,” Gabriel moans after the first bite, somewhat absurdly in Castiel’s opinion, “this is actually _edible,_ Cassie!”

“Thanks,” Castiel replies dryly, not thinking his cooking and baking skills are altogether _that_ terrible, but once he takes a bite of ‘67’s recipe his eyes practically roll into the back of his head. Being around this many people is stressful for someone who’s slightly introverted, so while everyone chats over cake, Cas retreats and quietly checks his phone.

FlyBoy83 7:20 PM >> { **picture uploaded}**

FlyBoy83 7:20 PM >> **Success!**

Medic67 7:28 PM << **hell yeah man, looks perfect**

He smiles and begins typing, pulling the screen close to him so Luke and Michael can’t read over his shoulder.

FlyBoy83 8:29 PM >> **It’s delicious. Thank you so much for sharing your recipe.**

Medic67 8:30 PM << i **t ain’t no thang but a chicken wing**

Medic67 8:30 PM << **okay, i’m never saying that again**

FlyBoy83 8:31 PM >> **I wasn’t going to say anything, but…yes. I believe that would be wise.**

Castiel snorts loudly and everyone looks at him curiously, but he waves a hand dismissively, hoping the attention will turn away from him.

“Gabbing with your secret bestie?” Gabriel asks cheerily, and Kali wrinkles her nose in confusion, so he explains, “Cassie’s had a catfish situation going on for like, _forever_.”

“I am not getting catfished,” he mumbles, an edge to his voice as Kali’s eyes bounce between the brothers. “We’re just—two friends who have no interest meeting in person.”

“Yeah, huh…” Gabriel smacks his lips together, grinning. “Ever wonder why that is? Probably ‘cause this guy’s some old creep who collects action figures and watches tentacle porn in his basement.”

“So, someone _you’d_ be friends with, then?” Castiel replies dryly, and everyone chuckles, even their otherwise annoying cousins.

“Oh, leave Castiel alone,” Kali defends, sorting through her purse to retrieve her compact mirror and lipstick. “He’ll meet the guy when he’s good and ready.”

Gabriel grunts noncommittally and Michael changes the subject, bragging about his golf swing, and Castiel promptly tunes the conversation out. He definitely regrets ever telling his brother about ‘67, but that’d been months ago, and at the time he hadn’t realized how important his friend would become to his everyday life. He supposes it’s strange that two of his favorite people, the ones that bring him the most happiness, are men whose identities are more or less a secret. But he has a breathtaking sub to fulfill his sexual desires, and a best friend that makes his heart feel warm and full, so why would he jeopardize what he has in either scenario?

They pay their separate tabs at the restaurant and call a handful of Lyfts, heading straight for downtown. It’s still early for going out, but already crowded because Boston _always_ is, and to ease his discomfort with all the crowds and endless small talk, Castiel downs a few whiskeys on the rocks. The next few hours pass in a haze as Gabriel orders them round after round of shots, and Cas’ eyesight gets a little fuzzy, everything suddenly exciting and fun as he drinks with the boys. He fumbles for his phone sometime around midnight, leaned against the bar and waiting for their latest round.

Medic67 9:10 PM << **so, what ya got planned for the rest of the night ?**

Medic67 10:08 PM << **ugh, this night has taken a weird turn. you do not wanna know about the inserted object in this guy’s anus right now**

Medic67 10:09 PM << **hint, it’s green and prickly**

Medic67 10:45 PM << **the attending nurse barely batted an eye though, she’s seen some shit, everybody in the ER has**

Castiel laughs out loud, drawing the attention of at least three nearby people as he types out:

FlyBoy83 12:04 AM  >> **areyouseriouas**

FlyBoy83 12:04 AM  >> **!!!**

To his surprise, ‘67 responds almost immediately.

Medic67 12:05 AM << **uh, hey buddy, how’s it going?**

FlyBoy83 12:05 AM  >> **so so soso good**

Medic67 12:06 AM << **yeah? how many drinks have you had?**

FlyBoy83 12:07 AM  >> **8**

FlyBoy83 12:07 AM  >> **10**

FlyBoy83 12:07 AM  >> **am i supposed to countt shots??/**

Medic67 12:08 AM << **shit man, you are freaking hammered**

Medic67 12:09 AM << **got a ride home?**

FlyBoy83 12:10 AM  >> **left mycar at the reastaurant but ii’ll probably get a lyfrt**

Medic67 12:11 AM << **good idea. you know you can call me if you need me, right? not supposed to leave work but i’d figure it out**

Castiel smiles warmly at the message, the bartender sliding a drink in his direction with a hard frown. Logically, somewhere deep inside his brain, Castiel knows he’s drunk—he’s probably about to get cut off from ordering future drinks at the bar.

FlyBoy83 12:12 AM  >> **thankyou so much you are such a good friend. youi are my best friend even though gabriell thinks you watch tentatlc porn**

Medic67 12:13 AM << **tentacle porn?** **can’t say I ever have, though I’m an open minded guy**

Medic67 12:14 AM << **and** **right back at you man**

Castiel looks down, his combat boots feeling thick and heavy on his feet. They also remind him of other things, of the time he pushed his sub down to the floor under the pressure of his boot, of the time his sub came all over his leg…

FlyBoy83 12:15 AM  >> **theses boots make me wanna sex**

Medic67 12:16 AM << **dude, you’re gonna be so embarrassed in the morning that you admitted your foot fetish to me while you were wasted**

Castiel frowns, eyes squinting.

FlyBoy83 12:17 AM  >> **i have maNy fetishes but not feet really**

FlyBoy83 12:18 AM  >> **i am serliously horny**

Medic67 12:20 AM << **can’t believe you’re making me say this, but uh, TMI**

FlyBoy83 12:21 AM  >> **sorry**

Medic67 12:22 AM << **nah** **it’s cool. nobody at the bar getting your gears going?**

Castiel glances around to his left and right, his brother hitting it off with some young twenty-something, and shrugs.

FlyBoy83 12:23 AM  >> **nope**

FlyBoy83 12:23 AM  >> **i wish he was here**

Medic67 12:24 AM << **who? the guy you’re seeing ?**

FlyBoy83 12:25 AM  >> **mhmmmmm**

FlyBoy83 12:26 AM  >> **wanna fuck him right against this bar**

Medic67 12:27 AM << **woah**

Medic67 12:27 AM << **sounds hot**

Medic67 12:27 AM << **call him up?**

FlyBoy83 12:28 AM  >> **cant**

FlyBoy83 12:28 AM  >> **you thikn that sounds hots?**

FlyBoy83 12:29 AM  >> **wanna bend him overr while everyone watches**

Medic67 12:30 AM << **damn dude, you’re kinky**

Medic67 12:30 AM << **can I tell you something kinda weird?**

FlyBoy83 12:31 AM  >> **plwease**

Medic67 12:32 AM << **your boots are pretty sexy**

Castiel glanced down in confusion, wondering how ‘67 knows what his boots look like, but then his friend answers his next question.

Medic67 12:32 AM << **I saw them in the pic you sent earlier, of the cake**

FlyBoy83 12:33 AM  >> **ohhHhhhh**

FlyBoy83 12:33 AM  >> **yeah he liekes them too**

Castiel sighs, fingering the rim of his glass, feeling half-hard and wishing more than anything to be with his sub right about now.

Medic67 12:34 AM << **dude’s got good taste. you and the boots**

Castiel grins down at his phone, fingers flying fast before he can think.

FlyBoy83 12:35 AM  >> **sounds lkinda like youre flirting iwth me**

Medic67 12:37 AM << **sorry, it’s been known to happen**

Medic67 12:38 AM << **Sammy says i can never seem to turn it off**

FlyBoy83 12:40 AM  >> **if you were here id buy yuo a drink**

Medic67 12:41 AM << **appreciate it, but if i were there i’d put you in a cab**

Medic67 12:42 AM << **seriously, you gonna be okay?**

FlyBoy83 12:43 AM  >> **ohh yeaH ill be fine**

Just as suspected, the bartender cashes out his tab, passing Castiel his debit card and an incredibly lengthy bill. Luckily he’s too wasted to even register the money he’s just spent, signing off with a generous tip and wandering over to his brother. He’s still sipping his whiskey and thinking about ‘67 and his sub…and that…that is the last thing Castiel remembers for a long, long time.

***

Dean presses his head into the steering wheel and glances over at the clock on the dash. Just past five a.m. and the sun is just coming up, the parking lot flooding with pre-dawn light. It’s been a long shift. He feels it in his bones as he gets out of the truck and heads for his bunk, hoping for a few hours sleep.

He’s spent the night bouncing from one crazy call to the next, never getting caught up on his reports and constantly checking his phone to make sure his friend is okay. He’d been pretty hammered by the sounds of it, and Dean knows logically that FlyBoy is an adult capable of taking care of himself. Still, the overprotective side of him is worried, and wants to make sure he’s drinking enough water and taking some Advil before bed. Luckily he’d received a message from him that he had made it home, and while Dean can’t control how bad his friend’s hangover is, he at least knows he’s home safe.

Jo has already stumbled into her bunk to pass out, and Dean collapses on top of his sleeping bag and stares at his boots, feeling almost too tired to take them off. Looking at them, he can’t help but think of FlyBoy again. Those fucking black combat boots. The ones Dean wears now are a lighter weight and have a zipper for quick on and off. The ones FlyBoy had on were more classic leather lace-up. Dean wishes he could have know what kind they were, but the boots were out of focus in the picture. He’d obsessed about them all night, having visceral flash backs to licking come off boots very similar to those.

Fuck, he’d even admitted to finding the boots sexy. FlyBoy was probably going to wake up and think Dean was some kind of perv and never talk to him again. He rolls over, scowling, and pulls up his phone to reread the messages again. It had sounded like flirting…no scratch that—it _had_ been flirting. FlyBoy had offered to buy him a drink. Dean would give just about anything to take him up on that offer. Fuck, the way he talked about that other guy, fucking him up against the bar in front of everyone. It had been empty talk, rambling of a drunk horny man, but still…but still.

Dean honestly has no idea his vegetable-eating, documentary-loving, sarcastic friend had such a dirty fucking mind. It was hot as hell, really. Dean tries to console himself that his friend isn’t likely to hold the boot comment against him based on his own ramblings, though FlyBoy has the excuse of alcohol that Dean doesn’t. Man, he wonders how bad it would be to crack open a beer after his shift. Probably very bad.

He doesn’t know why he’s torturing himself about this. His friend wasn’t talking about pounding _his_ ass, but his boyfriend or whoever the guy was to him. A little flair of jealousy burns in his chest. That guy better fucking appreciate what he has—he should be there giving him Gatorade in the morning and making him pancakes to soak up all that alcohol. That’s what Dean would do anyway. He sighs, closing his eyes, and decides to try and sleep and not think about his mystery friend banging some other dude up against a bar room table.

Dean gets lucky and makes it to the end of his shift with no other calls, stumbling home dead on his feet. He really wants his dom and rummages through his closet, pulling out the hoodie and tugging it on before tumbling into bed. He wants a session, and he wants it bad. Something to take his mind off FlyBoy, someone to make him feel wanted is exactly what he needs. He pulls out his phone and writes a quick email to Pam.

**\------------------------------------------**

**Subject:** Extra Session

 **<** [ImpalaIsMyBaby@gmail.com](mailto:ImpalaIsMyBaby@gmail.com) >

 **To:** PBarnes@B&BClub.com

Sun, June 16, 7:36 AM

Hey Pam, I was wondering if my Dom might be available for an earlier scene this week? I’m willing to pay for the room if he’s free. Let me know. Thanks!

**\------------------------------------------**

He hesitates only a second before hitting send and curling up under the covers. Getting his own ass pounded might be just the trick for his mood. He falls asleep, waking up hours later feeling like ass warmed over and in desperate need of a shower.

He turns the water up near scalding and leans against the wet tiles as the warm water soothes his muscles and washes away the grime. Some shifts he just can’t ever seem to feel clean. He goes slow, washing his hair and scrubbing at his body with a sugar scrub Charlie gave him for Christmas. It smells like strawberry and he vehemently denies that he kept it. Sam only keeps his secret because the jerk kept his own citrus-scented one. Even after coming out of the shower, he still feels off.

It’s a disconnected feeling, like he’s not grounded, and a strong breeze could just carry him away. He paces the room in his towel, feeling the water cool on his skin. He considers wrapping himself in the blanket like FlyBoy had suggested that one time. It did feel good—the pressure of the sheets. But he isn’t sure that will do the trick. He wants his dom, he wants strong arms wrapped around him and a firm jaw pressed onto his shoulder. He wants legs tangled in his and a firm chest to his back.

The image of his dom wrapped around him has his cock stirring. That decides it for him…he is going to need something more to get himself calmed down. He pulls off his towel and digs through his bottom drawer till he pulls out a long bunch of blue rope. He’d bought it not long ago when the bright color and soft texture had stood out to him. He is fairly skilled with ropework and even read a few books on shibari that Pam had leant him.

He uncoils the rope a moment, evening it out before looping it around the back of his neck. He pulls down, feeling the tension on his skin, and smiles from it. He really needs to have a talk with his dom about fitting bondage into one of their scenes. He goes to work carefully, wrapping the rope under his pecs and around his back. It’s a classic tortoise shell pattern and the only one he feels comfortable doing to himself. With each snug pull and stretch of the rope on his skin he feels his nerves easing.

He tucks the rope under each cheek and around his thighs, leaving a knot in the rope just behind his balls. He pulls up ever so gently and moans at the stimulation. Its overwhelming and he can’t help but imagine it’s his dom pulling his strings. He ties off the loose ends and relaxes out his muscles into the firm hold of the rope. It feels great as he settles down gingerly on the mattress, letting his eyes fall closed, one hand wrapped around his half hard cock lazily stroking.

_Filthy little whore, all tied up like a present for me?_

He can hear his dom purring in his ear and huffs out a whispered “yes” into the empty room.

_My good, dirty, little slut, so beautiful and needy for me._

Dean all but purrs at the imagined praise and begins stroking himself a bit firmer. “So good for you Master, always,” he hums, biting his bottom lip and pulling at the rope around his neck with his free hand. He feels his Adam’s apple bob against the rope as his body all but vibrates in its bonds.

_Are you going to come for me, slut? Spill all your wet come over these pretty ropes, hmmm?_

He can’t even respond to the imagined words in his head now that he’s full-on panting, the heat of his hard cock twitching in his hand. Suddenly there’s a buzzing on his phone and he curses, using his hand not currently holding his cock to grab it. Looking at his phone he sees the notification dot on his signal app.

FlyBoy83 10:35 AM  << **Pretty sure this is it, this hangover will be the death of me.**

FlyBoy83 10:35 AM  << **Remind me never to go drinking with my brother again.**

FlyBoy83 12:13 PM  << **Never again!**

He’d missed the earlier messages and groans, wanting to check on and tease his friend but also not wanting to lose his epic hard on. He types out a hurried reply, slowing down his strokes.

Medic67 12:14 PM  >> **You still in the land of the living?**

FlyBoy83 12:15 PM  << **That’s debatable.**

Medic67 12:15 PM  >> **Still in bed?**

FlyBoy83 12:16 PM  << **Yes, it’s where I live now. May look into getting my mail forwarded.**

Medic67 12:16 PM  >> **I mean if you have memory foam I wouldn’t blame you**

Dean doesn’t think he wants to leave his bed ever again either as he rocks back and forth, enjoying the pull of the rope. He curses when his friend doesn’t reply right away, and he wonders if he even took off those damn boots. Just the thought of them has lust tearing through him, the idea of that leather pressing up against his dick, the thrill of it and the danger. He can’t stand it, his balls tightening, and grips his cock in one final stroke before he’s spilling and crying out, coming all over himself. Seeing stars, he scrunches his eyes shut, shivering in the hold of the rope. He can’t believe how hard he just came, and if there was an ounce of tension left in him, it’s completely gone now. He uses his clean hand to send off another text to his friend, feeling a little guilty for being distracted.

Medic67 12:26 PM  >> **Come on man you gotta get up and drink some water and eat something or you won’t start to feel better**

FlyBoy83 12:27 PM  << **I don’t want to :(**

Medic67 12:27 PM  >> **are you seriously pouting right now?**

Medic67 12:28 PM  >> **don’t make me come over there and pull you out of bed**

FlyBoy83 12:28 PM  << **Fine. Bossy much?**

Medic67 12:28 PM  >> **I don’t like to be except when my best friend is being a stubborn ass. Do you have any gatorade?**

He sets down the phone, thinking Gatorade might not be a bad idea for himself. He uses his towel to wipe off the come from his body and hands, flopping back down in bed. He runs his hand idly up and down the rope as he checks his phone again, settling into the mattress.

FlyBoy83 12:31 PM  << **Alright, I am out of bed and drinking gatorade. Also eating some of the ruined cake, which may be a decision I will regret.**

FlyBoy83 12:32 PM  << **Keep you posted.**

Dean smiles, shaking his head at his highly intelligent friend being a complete bonehead. The rope had been a great idea, just like jerking off, and he can tell he staved off a potentially shitty day by using them. It’s no replacement for his dom though—the actual warm arms, the caring in his eyes. He feels better knowing his friend is taking care of himself, though surely having a lot less fun than Dean had been.

FlyBoy83 12:43 PM  << **Cake was not the best choice, but it’s staying down anyway.**

Yup, his friend is having a much harder morning.

FlyBoy83 12:44 PM  << **I guess I should apologize for last night. Drunk texting is never a very good idea.**

FlyBoy83 12:45 PM  << **I hope I didn’t make too big a fool of myself.**

Medic67 12:48 PM  >> **Don’t sweat it, we’re good**

Dean wishes that the flirting could have been real…but in the end, this right here, this friendship is nothing he wants to risk.

FlyBoy83 12:48 PM  << **Thank you anyways.**

FlyBoy83 12:48 PM  << **Going to reply to a few things and pass back out.**

Medic67 12:49 PM  >> **rest up**

Dean lays in bed, dozing off when his phone pings with an email. He sees that Pam has responded that his dom is available tomorrow night if he wants. He sends her an enthusiastic reply yes. He can feel a bit of tingling settling in, and finally begins to unwind the rope. With each relief of pressure he feels some of the security ebb away. He knows he will see his dom soon, and decides there’s more than one way to help him feel owned. He tucks the rope away and pulls out the shiny silver cock cage, smiling at just the thought of how happy his dom will be to see it. Dean will have a reminder of what’s to come with every shift of his cage and he can’t help but smile at the thought.

The following day can’t pass soon enough, but before long, he finds himself at the club, sipping an old fashioned at the bar. He came earlier than he meant to but he was just dying to get out of the house and see his blue-eyed sex god of a dom. He feels eyes on him more than normal, which okay, he rarely sits at the bar here so it’s understandable. He also decided to keep things simple in a tight black tee and his favorite light-wash, ripped denim jeans that are just a little too tight. It’s one of his favorite concert outfits actually, but he also knows how good it makes his ass look.

He glances around the room, recognizing a few of the regulars, and his eyes land on wavy salt and pepper hair and scorching blue eyes boring a hole into him. It’s the other dom—Knight, from his last scene. The guy has one hell of a smirk on his face and he’s eyeing Dean like he may as well be standing there naked. The guy actually does know what he looks like naked, knows what he sounds like needy and begging for cock. He flushes bright red and turns back to the bar, focusing on his drink.

A body slides into the seat next to him, almost making him jump…but he relaxes a bit once he hears the warm southern drawl.

“Hey there, Dean. You aren’t normally here on Monday?” Benny smiles at him. He hasn’t seen his old play partner in a long time. He’d enjoyed sceneing with Benny but there just hadn’t been much of a spark. They’d decided they made better friends than kinky partners, but he’s kinda glad to see him now.

“Yeah, just getting an extra session in. How you been?”

“Oh, same old same old, you know how it is,” Benny replies in his soft, soothing voice. “Knight over there is giving you his best ‘fuck me’ face…or in his case, ‘let me fuck you face.’”

Dean chuckle. “Yeah, he scened a little with me and my dom…but he knows I’m not available.” He feels a little twinge of pride at that—he’s taken.

“Always knew you were a show off.” Benny gives a warm laugh and slap on his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Dean. Call me soon and we can shoot some pool or something, it’s been too long.”

He nods and smiles, giving Benny a half hug. He turns to wave a goodbye to the man when his eyes catch a downright terrifying sight. His dom is standing at the front desk, eyes blazing and shoulders stiff. _Oh fuck._ He must have seen Dean give Benny a hug. He feels like a deer caught in headlights for minute. He knows he hasn’t actually done anything wrong but his stomach sinks all the same. He watches those fierce blue eyes turn a murderous gaze to Benny before they dart back to Dean, and looks could kill he’d be mummified by now. He waits, and his dom gives a stiff little nod before sweeping off toward one of the back rooms.

Dean drags in a deep breath and moves slowly to the desk where Billie is working tonight. “Room seven when the light is on,” she replies smoothly and gives him a wink. It calms him down just a little and he takes a seat with his eyes glued on the signal light. Five long ass minutes tick by before finally the light turns green, and he slowly makes his way over. Hand stilled on the door knob, he steadies himself before going in to face his dom. He hopes he hasn’t ruined a chance at the scene he really needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Intoxication, Self Bondage, Amateur Baking


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, friends!! TCBaby here. Y’all should know that CB and I were absolutely floored by the amount of comments we received last chapter. We love hearing from you guys! Honestly, the amount of conversations we’ve had lately about how much we love our readers is like…insane.
> 
> Speaking of insane, if you’ve been paying attention in the comments section, you’ll know that I write the Cas POV while CB beautifully crafts Dean. I mention this because, y’all, I got SO CARRIED AWAY in writing this scene that I sorta…wrote like, a ridiculous amount of smut. Thankfully I have a coauthor who likes surprises and was rooting for me as I kept writing, and writing, and writing. This was so much fun.
> 
> Anyways, enough chatter. Enjoy!

Castiel is sitting behind a folding table, hands clasped in his lap as his sub enters. The man looks gorgeous, sporting a form-fitting pair of jeans that make his dom want to devour his delectable ass right here and now. But even stronger than the lust, there’s a burning pit of possessiveness growing in his stomach, the earlier sight of his sub on display at the bar leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Not only had he been the eye candy of literally everyone—because _no one_ is more gorgeous—but he had let that gruff bear of a Louisiana dom actually touch him.

Other doms, fawning over someone who belongs to _Castiel_.

The door closes and his sub keeps his eyes glued to the floor, cheeks tinged pink. His shoulders are rounded down, hands tightly at his sides, and it’s such a submissive pose that Castiel feels his cock give a small twitch. Clearly his stunning, green-eyed sub is worried about his dom’s reaction to what he witnessed in the club, and it’s making Castiel feel more…merciful. The logical part of him knows his sub did nothing wrong, and Castiel breathes through his nose and exhales out his mouth, in and out, trying to maintain his composure. In reality he knows his sub is welcome to talk, flirt, and even have sex with whoever catches his eye—after all, they hadn’t included an exclusivity clause in their six-month contract. It shouldn’t bother him this much, seeing his sub being social at the club before their scenes.

But it does.

At the same time, it’s very arousing to see the man so acquiescent and docile, so on-edge and ready to perform whatever task his dom requires. He clearly trusts Castiel a great deal to walk into a room full of floggers, whips, and paddles, when he believes his dom is feeling wrathful and jealous. He’s probably expecting some form of punishment, maybe even praying for it, since he finds it incredibly arousing to skirt that line between pain and pleasure.

But Castiel has never been a traditional dom, which means he never wants to offer his sub everything he’s expecting. He’d rather surprise him, provoke him in a way that makes his stomach flip, his heart flutter, his cock grow hard and leaking before he even understands why.

“Come,” he instructs tonelessly, and the sub walks to him instinctively, the only sound in the room the friction of his jeans rubbing together as he walks. “Kneel.”

The man falls to his knees easily, his posture in front of Castiel deferential, even reverent. Castiel counts to one hundred, the tension between them ramping up to a level that has even the dom’s heart racing, until finally he places a hand on the sub’s chin and raises it. The man shivers at the first brush of contact, sighing, as if he worried Castiel might not touch him. The dom bites his lip and tries to put himself in his sub’s shoes.

“How is my good boy?” he asks, and the pet names makes his sub exhale with relief, practically melting into Castiel’s touch.

“Fine, Master,” the man whispers, eyes still scanning the floor.

“You _are_ fine, that’s true. But when I’m holding your chin like this, I’d like you to look at me,” Castiel says, a slight edge to his voice, and finally green eyes meet his blue. There’s clear anxiety on the other man’s face, along with the usual anticipation and eagerness, and Castiel just stares at this stunning man, in awe that someone like this would want him so badly.

“You requested an extra session for a reason, pet,” he points out reasonably. 

“I…” The sub licks his lips and Castiel tracks the movement naturally. “I missed you, Master.”

“Hmm…” Castiel’s hands can’t help wandering over his sub’s face, stroking his cheek bones and petting his freckles. “Is that why I spotted at you the bar, talking to another dom? Because you missed me?”

“N-no, Master. I mean, I did miss you, I do, but—” The sub wrings his hands together uneasily and Castiel finds that enjoys watching him squirm. “That guy, Benny, he’s just a friend, I swear.”

Castiel bends over low, his lips lightly brushing the other man’s ear as he whispers, “You know what I think, slut? I think—” He gives a considerable pause, letting the tension between them build. “I’ve missed you too.”

He’s speaking openly, honestly, though that’s nothing new. He always misses his beautiful sub—but the past few days, after being so embarrassingly drunk and hitting on his best friend, Castiel has felt a total loss of control. He doesn’t know what’s slowly developing between him and Medic67, but it feels like he’s on the verge of developing feelings that are more than platonic…which is so entirely inconvenient, he doesn’t even know where to begin. As much as he truly cares for ‘67 and values his friendship, he can’t imagine ever giving up his sub, not now. Not ever. But reading back through his drunk texts, he can’t deny that ‘67 had seemed turned on by the thought of Castiel fucking a man publicly against a bar. Not to mention that he said Castiel’s boots were sexy, which was a surprising but welcome compliment. What could these things mean? Could he actually have sexual chemistry with a nameless, faceless friend?

Castiel shakes his head, willing himself back to the here and now. Lips still hovering close to his sub’s ear, his voice extra husky when he whispers, “I’m going to enjoying devouring you this evening.”

A quiet whimper escapes the sub’s mouth and Cas works hard to mask his smirk. When he pulls away, he’s situated his expression into a more neutral stance. “But tonight, you must work for it. Would you like to earn my cock, slut? A needy slut like you would do anything for the opportunity to see my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” the man replies passionately, “anything, Master. I’d do anything to see your perfect cock, to taste it—”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, boy,” he growls, gripping the sub’s chin more tightly than before. “You’ll get what you earn and nothing more. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Master,” the sub says, a little shakily this time, and Castiel loosens his grip, stroking his fingers over the man’s jawline.

“Good.” Castiel drops his hands, knowing what his touch—and subsequent lack thereof—does for the man kneeling at his feet. “I need you to follow these instructions very carefully.” The man’s attention perks up, eyes widening, as if Castiel is about to give him a quest. “Do you see that bag over there, on the counter?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Go look inside. First, pull out bowls. There are several of each size, but I’d like you to retrieve two small bowls, three medium size bowls, and one large bowl. Next, you’ll see containers of various fruit and nuts. The almonds should be in one small bowl. The walnuts should be in the other. Be generous in your portion sizes, as I’m quite hungry, and if your dom’s hunger isn’t satisfied, he’ll be displeased.” The sub’s eyes are flicking around the room, as if that’s the worst outcome that could possibly occur. Castiel can tell he’s trying very hard to memorize every aspect of this task ahead of him. “Next, retrieve the sliced strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple. Each of these fruits belong in their own medium-sized bowl. Make sure each bowl is neat and tidy—we won’t be getting messy this evening. Or rather…” He licks his lips suggestively, “I won’t be.”

Castiel waits for a moment, letting the comment hang in the air, until he finally finishes the step-by-step instructions. “Lastly, leave the large bowl empty for now. Once you’ve assembled everything, bring each bowl to me in the exact order in which you arranged them. When you’re done, kneel at my feet.”

The sub hesitates for a second, not knowing if he can stand yet, but with only a small nod of his head Castiel allows the man to rise. He watches with interest as his sub walks to the bag, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he’s disassembling a bomb that could go off at any moment. He pulls out the bowls, a porcelain set that Castiel bought last night just for this occasion. He sets the extra bowls to the side, counts his stack carefully before moving onto the food items. He reaches for the fruit first and Castiel begins to tense up, ready to reprimand his pet, but at the last minute he correctly reaches for the almonds instead. He follows Castiel’s instructions beautifully, and even though it’s a rather menial and straightforward task, witnessing such pure submissiveness from someone he’s so attracted to makes Castiel’s cock grow hard. For a brief moment he feels ridiculous for being so turned on by this—imagine if he was actually dating this sub…would he get an erection every time they put away groceries?—but he knows it’s less about the act itself and more about the surrendering, the offering trust.

The sub brings the almonds and walnuts over first, eyes downcast as he slides them onto the center of the table. Next he brings each bowl of fruit, until finally, he’s gingerly dropping the large empty bowl on the edge of the table. For a brief second he looks at it questioningly, an obvious curiosity burning through him, but then he looks back down and sinks to his knees. He’s still fully clothed, which is certainly a shame, but Castiel wants to wait for the perfect moment to strip him bare.

“Everything seems to be in perfect order,” Castiel comments, exaggerating the tone of pride in his voice. “I’m quite pleased with my good boy, my perfect sub.”

The man’s cheeks practically glow, he’s blushing so hard, and Castiel makes a mental note to check to see if it’s the same shade of red as his tight little ass after a spanking. Now there’s an idea…

“Thank you, Master,” he whispers, sounding genuinely thankful, and the dom has such a surge of affection towards him that he has to resist the inclination to lay a kiss on his forehead. He settles for snacking instead, gathering a handful of nuts for protein before washing down the dryness in his throat with a piece of pineapple. “Fetch my water, pet,” he says offhandedly. “In my bag, in the cabinet.”

It’s only after his sub has stood, walked over the cabinet, sorted through his bag and returned with his large bottle of water, that Castiel realizes his foolishness. His bag had all sorts of identifying items in there…his wallet, his car keys, his flight medic badge. If his sub had done any snooping he would surely know Castiel’s first and last name by now, and the thought makes him feel panicked for the breaking Billie’s rule, but secretly thrilled that it might’ve happened purely by accident.

If his sub did take a peek, though, he isn’t showing any indication of it. He just kneels dutifully at Castiel’s feet as he snacks, and after his stomach begins to fill, he holds a chunky slice of strawberry between his fingers and holds it to his sub’s plump, glistening lips.

“Here’s my good boy’s first reward, if he’d like,” he offers softly. If his sub has already eaten dinner, or doesn’t happen to like the fruits and nuts he’s chosen, Castiel won’t take it personally. But he would very much like to feed his good boy, following a hunch that they’ll both enjoy the intimacy of this exchange.

His sub doesn’t disappoint, opening his mouth wide as Castiel drags his fingers, brushing his lips sensually. The sub moans quietly around the sweetness of the strawberry and the slick fingers in his mouth, and Castiel fights the urge to palm against his growing erection, commanding, “Suck,” in a deep, sultry tone. The sub does so, not only expertly but with a newfound desperation, a need for more. Castiel pulls his fingers away to retrieve more fruit, a popping sound reverberating from the seal of the man’s pink lips.

“Do you know how much you tempt me?” Castiel rumbles, eyes searching his sub’s face and watching him blush for a second time today. “The sounds you make, those perfect lips, the look on your face…” He reaches for a piece of cut pineapple, the juices dripping off his fingers, and the sub takes the second offering with a unadulterated, wanton moan, tongue lapping up the juice from Castiel’s sticky fingers. Cas briefly remembers intending to stay clean during this scene, but his sub is sucking so blissfully, tongue lapping the pads of his fingertips as he takes in more and more length, that Castiel can’t bring himself to miffed by this turn of events. In fact, it’s even better than he expected. It’s more erotic than any food play he’s ever attempted.

His sub is so focused on cleaning his dom’s fingers with his mouth that spit and pineapple juice are pooling now, dribbling from the corners and running down his chin. The sight is so obscene, so reckless with neediness and lust, that Castiel can’t help himself. He _must_ have a proper taste. He pulls his fingers out in a rush and smashes their lips together, drawing the sub into his lap effortlessly, suddenly straddled. The intensity of the kiss is immediate, Castiel’s tongue dominating the exchange before he sucks his sub’s bottom lip mercilessly. His sub whimpers and yields complete control, motionless and waiting, but Castiel finds he doesn’t want that right now. He wants the man’s _real_ response, wants to see him relinquish every shred of self-control and self-consciousness over to his dom.

“Let go,” he commands, voice impossibly low. “Let go.”

The change is instant—the sub dives forward, hands grasping Castiel’s neck, crushing their lips together in a wet and sloppy kiss. It’s primal and heady and Castiel loves every second of it, barely able to catch his breath as the man grinds against him, seeking friction by rutting their denim-clad fronts together. He moans, panting in Castiel’s mouth, palm pushing against the front of his jeans.

“Are you…” Castiel’s breathing is erratic, and he touches a cautious hand to his sub’s zipper, finding the firm curve of metal buried beneath. “Fuck, are you…wearing your cock cage?”

“I didn’t want to come too fast,” his sub mumbles in embarrassment, adding in a quick “Master” even though Castiel wasn’t planning to chastise him. “Just seeing you makes me… Listen, I know it’s crazy, but I can’t think straight, can’t control myself…”

Castiel’s heart feels warm and full, but he puts on his cockiest dom smirk in reply. “That’s kind of the point, pet.” He tightens his grip on the man’s waist and pushes up for a deep kiss, lips slotting together as he clutches his sub’s face, heart pounding fast. He can’t remember if they’ve ever kissed outside of aftercare, but he knows they’ve never kissed quite like _this_. They’re on equal footing, the sub taking as much as he’s receiving, and Castiel knows he should put an end to this…should focus back on the scene…but it feels so damn good, just being together in this way. He can’t remember the last time just kissing someone got him this hot and bothered, but he’s almost fully erect and feeling drunk with desire when he finally separates their lips.

“Strip,” he pants, foreheads leaned against his sub’s as they share the same air. “Then take your gorgeous ass over to the play table. Now.”

True to form, his sub doesn’t have to be told twice, though he does look somewhat forlorn at the thought of leaving Castiel’s lap. He walks over to his usual spot where he stores his clothes, stripping slowly, and it takes every ounce of Castiel’s self-control not to go over there and finish the job himself. When he’s finally down to his underwear, standing in a pair of slim, gray boxers, Cas notices the cotton tight against the cock cage.

“No pretty panties for your dom today?” he asks cheekily, not feeling all that disappointed. He’s distracted by the miles of tan, toned skin on his sub’s torso…

“Sorry, Master,” the sub mumbles, looking down at the floor. “I meant to go shopping…I just…”

Castiel peers his eyes and reads between the lines, wondering how much money his sub has spent on panties already, just to have them stained each session. “You’ll do no such thing,” he says firmly. “What size? And what are your favorite fabrics?”

“Uh…” The man scratches the back of his neck, blushing again. It’s a sight Castiel could really get used to. “Anything is fine. And women’s large usually. They make specialty men’s, but I…I like the tightness of the ladies cut.”

Castiel takes slow and deliberate steps, crowding him against the wall. “You like that your dom can see your cock spilling out? You like the feeling of silk rubbing against your smooth shaft? You like the look of lace barely containing your cock, dripping with precome?”

“Fuck, Master, yes …” He whines a little, staring down at the cock cage as his dick attempts to form an erection, and Castiel smiles at the sight. His perfect, needy little pet is right where Cas wants him.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” he whispers sincerely, already planning on showering his sub with gifts at the first available opportunity. Then he clears his throat, tone deep, and says, “Now, I _thought_ I told my needy slut to get on the table…”

His sub’s eyes widened, as if he can’t believe he’s missed a direct order, and mumbles out a heartfelt “Sorry, Master,” as he scrambles over to his spot. Castiel is amused by how badly the man wants to please him, but as soon as he’s mounting the flat surface, on his back and only wearing his boxers, Cas struggles not to shiver.

“Off,” he demands, voice full of heat, and his sub seems to know exactly what he means. He lifts his hips and tugs the boxers down, hissing when the elastic band snags on his cock cage. There’s an awkward moment where he’s just clutching his underwear, not sure if his dom wants him to get up and put it with his other clothes, so Castiel instructs, “Drop them, pet. Get on all fours. And afterwards, don’t move a muscle.”

The sub does so immediately, endlessly obedient, and Castiel has a fire in his belly remembering how good the man had been at pet play. Though to be fair, he’s been good at everything so far…

Castiel turns around, blinking, trying to stay focused. Between the impromptu kissing and the way his sub keeps distracting him, Castiel worries he’s not offering his best dom persona tonight. But his sub is the best, and deserves the best in return.

There are a number of toys and devices he could use for this next part, but there’s something intimate about using his leather belt, so he stands behind his sub and unbuckles it slowly. He lets the shuffle of the buckle and the clink of the metal fill up the room, and then holds either end of the leather and snaps it together sharply. His sub gives a small jump and shudder.

“I didn’t envision doing this quite so soon, not after last time, when you begged our guest for a good spanking and I made your ass nice and red.” Castiel speaks slowly, leisurely, resisting the urge to touch the perky ass filling up his vision. While scening with Cain had been thrilling at the time, after seeing the older man staring his sub down like a piece of meat at the bar, Castiel knows it’ll be a while before he invites anyone else to join them. Deep down, he’s terrified of their contract ending and the gorgeous, green-eyed man choosing to be with someone else. But he plasters on a smirk and pushes through, feeling emboldened.

“But since you’re such a slut, it seems you might need a reminder of who your Master truly is.”

To his surprise, his sub wiggles around a little, throwing his chin over his shoulder. “Sorry, Master. Is it my fault I have a great ass?”

Castiel swings the belt with a jolt, an impactful hit that makes the cockiness slide off his sub’s face as he cries out in surprise.

“That whore mouth of yours will get you in trouble,” Castiel growls. “Is that how you address your master?”

“No, Master.” His head is hanging down now, eyes cast down, which is a good start…but Castiel wants him whimpering. He debates on asking his sub to keep track of the number of hits, but decides the anticipation of not knowing his dom’s end goal will keep him jittery and tense. Plus, though this is serving as somewhat of a punishment, he knows his sub absolutely _adores_ being spanked. This is gratifying for them both.

Cas steps closer to the other cheek, making his steps loud and noticeable, before altering back and re-hitting the same cheek again. His sub groans at the sharp slap of the leather, and Castiel begins to fluctuate between each cheek, varying up his rhythm but never diminishing the power behind each strike. He’s going much harder than he had in the last scene, but there’s a possessive fire burning in his stomach, and he’s saying the most filthy and degrading things while his sub’s ass grows increasingly red. Cas wants to gather up every moan, every shake and shudder, every cry his sub lets out in ecstasy. He’s going to hoard them all because they belong to him, because this man is his.

“Who owns your ass?”

Swing.

“That’s right…”

Swing.

“I do.”

Swing.

“M-Master.” His sub is keening, chest panting, hands wobbly as they keep him upright. Castiel pauses at the call of his name, breathing heavy and taking stock of the situation. Both cheeks are flaming red, and there are tears in the corners of those beautiful green eyes Castiel loves so much. He figures twenty is a good number to end on, so he slips his belt back on through the loops his jeans. He palms the red ass gently, his sub wincing, and he leaves small, open mouth kisses over the tender flesh.

“I’m going to send you home with cream and lotion,” he purrs.“Apply it liberally. Though you’ll still have a nice reminder of me for the next few days.”

“Yes, Master, thank you,” the man breathes with relief, and Cas isn’t sure if he’s referring to the end of his spanking, the medicine he’s being sent home with, or the burn of his belt seared in his skin. Possibly all three.

“On your back, you gorgeous slut,” he commands, his sub immediately complying—much to his satisfaction. Cas reaches for the bowl of strawberries behind him, then goes back to the table, circling the naked man and licking his lips pointedly.

“I hope you don’t mind if I finish my meal…” He begins to trail slices of fresh fruit over the man’s skin, on his shin and hips and collarbones. His sub just breathes through the sensation, following the directive to stay motionless, and Castiel trades out the strawberries for the mangoes. He scatters chunks on his abdomen, his arms, his lower thighs. “I could’ve finished it earlier, but it seems you’re too distracting. The only logical solution is to make _you_ the platter.”

He maintains tight circles around the table, not touching his sub apart from fruit dropping onto his bare skin, and he sees the man shudder. Without warning Castiel bends over, mouthing at a strawberry slice near his belly button, and his sub’s body trembles as a soft moan escapes his lips. Castiel’s mouth is wet and wild, leaving open mouth kisses and lavish licks as he chews and swallows the fruit.

“Delicious… And the strawberry is good, too.” He inspects the damp spot where his mouth had been, and blows cool air over glistening patch, loving how goosebumps pebble and rise onto the man’s skin.

“Such a responsive little slut,” he comments appreciatively. He zeroes in on a large cut of mango, sucking the juice thoroughly and rubbing the fruit flesh against his sub’s skin. He moans, body tight with anticipation, as Castiel manages to consume nearly a dozen or more pieces of fruit, lips and teeth and tongue making each bite as sensual as possible. It’s tortuous and slow, not only for the sub but for Castiel himself, who’s testing his own discipline by dragging this out and making it as good as possible. When he’s finally consumed every piece placed on his gorgeous platter, he shuffles to the cabinet, returning with a small squeeze bottle of honey. He uncaps the top and drizzles a light line across the sub’s collar bones, then latches his mouth onto the tender flesh, tongue flat as he licks and slurps. Then he travels down to his abs, his hips, every smooth patch of skin he can find, covering his sub in honey and kisses and praise.

“It seems I have quite the sweet tooth tonight, sweet boy,” he whispers. “I can’t get enough of you. Though, who could blame me? Look at you…on display, sticky and sugary and waiting to see where my mouth will go next.”

The sub whimpers, hands stiff as he tries not to reach for the cock cage, and Castiel’s fingers skid across the surface of the metal spiral teasingly.

“My needy slut would very much like to get hard, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, Master,” the sub begs.

“My pet wants to come?”

“Yes, Master.”

Castiel puts on a feigned frown. “Problem is, my gorgeous little slut, is that you have to _work_ for it tonight. Don’t tell me you already forgot that part…” He _tsks tsks_ , circling the table again in his sensual, predatory way. After a few moments, just the sound his sub’s needy whimpers filling the room, Castiel cups the man’s cheeks with both hands. “Shall I tell you what happens next?" 

It’s a rhetorical question, because Castiel has every intention of explaining. “Do you remember the bowl? The large one, that’s empty?”

“Y-yes,” the sub breathes, adding a shaky, “Master.”

“Such a sweet boy. Truly delectable…” Castiel drags his thumb on the man’s lower lip, enjoying the wetness, struggling not to lean over and reclaim his mouth with his own. “Pet, I’m going to fill that bowl. I’m going to fill it with my come, and then I’m going to cover every inch of your body with it. And the next time you get drinks with another dom, or think about letting another dom touch you, you’ll remember how I’ve already marked every square inch of your body. You are _mine_ , sweet boy, and I’m not letting anyone else have you.”     

“Master,” his sub whines, eyes fluttering. “Yes, Master, please. Make me yours. I want to be yours. Please…”

Castiel’s heart is pounding in his ears, wondering if his sub means it or if he’s just incredibly turned on at the moment. Either way, the wrecked sounds he’s making are more than enough for Castiel to feel fully erect, and he goes to the end of the table, the ideal angle for his sub to watch him jerk off. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans slowly, his sub’s eyes fixated on the motion, and he shuffles the fabric of his underwear down. He gives his length a tentative stroke and moans quietly, not realizing how all that licking and kissing and sucking has ramped his arousal up to a thousand.

“If only you could see yourself, laid out in front of me like a buffet.” He alternates between fast and slow pulls on his cock, varying up the tempo so he lasts longer. His hand is slight damp and sticky from all the food play, which doesn’t feel fluid and slick like he’d prefer, so he pauses briefly to search for lube. Once his hand is thinly coated, his eyelids flutter closed, his breathing labored. “Do you want to know what inspired me to do this scene?” He hears a whimper in reply. “I was baking a few days ago and I imagined you in an apron, at the oven, on your knees in front of me…” Castiel feels his balls begin to tighten, a fire growing in his belly, and his hand speeds up. He hadn’t intended to tell his sub this part, but he finds the truth stumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “If you had been there, my gorgeous pet, I would’ve taken you right then and there. Would have fucked you against the stove.”

“Fuck, I…I would’ve let you, Master.” The sub’s mouth is hanging wide, watching his dom’s dick disappear in and out of his tight fist. “Want you to want me.”

“I always want you,” Castiel growls with utter honesty. “There isn’t a day that I don’t want you.”

“Oh…” The sub squirms and hisses, the cock cage becoming unbearable. “Master, please…touch me…”

“Your Master’s going to come for you. Do you want that?” He reaches behind him, hand searching for the bowl. “Does my slut want to be covered in my come?”

“Please, Master, please come. Please mark me, make me yours, please…” With a final, steady stroke, Castiel comes with a low grunt and a cry. He aims the ropes of come into the open container, shuddering and maintaining eye contact with his sub as he slumps in a post-orgasm haze. He wipes his softening cock lightly with a nearby towel, then tucks himself away, zipping and buttoning his jeans. Finally, with skillful fingers, he releases his sub’s cock from the cage. The hyper sensitivity makes the man cry out the moment Castiel gives him a small stroke.

“Such a sensitive little slut,” he purrs approvingly, noticing the hitch in the other man’s labored breath. He takes his pointer and middle finger together, swiping inside the bowl of still-warm come, and rub it on his sub’s legs, thighs, stomach, arms. He’s never considered come-marking to be one of his primary kinks, but his possessive feelings towards his sub has reached new heights after today, and he finds the whole experience of claiming this man to be immensely…satisfying. He massages his come into every available space, thankful that he hasn’t come in a few days so his load is rather substantial. He even rubs come on the surface of his sub’s lips, shuddering when a tongue parts to lick and swallow.

“What a wonder you are,” he whispers encouragingly. “So hungry for Master’s come.”

“Please.” The sub’s tongue is still hanging from the corner of his mouth, as if he’s search for more come to swallow, and between the dazed look on his face and his quickly fluttering eyelashes, Castiel watches the man enter subspace. “Please…I want more, Master…”

“Don’t be greedy, pet,” Castiel chastises playfully. “You can’t have _all_ the fun.” He bends over, hands planted on the table, and licks and kisses his sub from navel to neck, swallowing the taste of his own come as he smothers his sub with kisses. His pet breathes heavily and squirms, sighing at the contact, shivering at the lewdness of the act.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” the sub murmurs, a gorgeous combination of arousal and emotion evident in his voice.

“That’s the plan, pet.” Castiel latches onto the curve in his neck, sucking forcefully for several seconds, but he pulls away before his ministrations can cause a mark.

“No,” his sub cries, and Cas looks down at his sub’s hard dick, precome pearling at the tip. “M-Master, I want you to mark me.”

Castiel peers down at the man’s naked body, still covered in his quickly cooling come. “I’ve done that quite thoroughly, my lo—” Castiel breathes in sharply, aware that he was just about to say _my love._ He has no clue where that came from, but it’s a supremely amateur move, and he scolds himself for it. “My pet.”

“But on my neck. I want you to…” He stretches his neck eagerly, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“We’ve talked about this,” Castiel reminds him gently. “No visible marks—”

“But I want it,” the sub whines, and under different circumstances, Castiel might point out this little sudden brattiness. But he has a feeling this request goes deeper than wanting a hickey, so he simply pauses, waiting for his pet to continue. “I…I know how that sounded, and I’m sorry, Master, but I want _you_. I want you to mark me, and claim me. I only want you and I want everyone to know it.”

Castiel stares at him in amazement, feeling his cock give an eager stir, because… _yes_. He wants to claim this man as his. More than anything in the world.

“Do you mean that?” His voice sounds more vulnerable than he’d like, especially in a scene, so he clears his throat. “We could…add an exclusivity clause into our contract. In a few days though, outside of a scene, so our heads are clear.”

“Yes, please Master,” the sub sighs, chest rising and falling into a comfortable rhythm. “And hickeys too?”

Castiel chuckles. “Anything you wish.”

“Would that clause mean…” The sub fidgets on the table, gathering his thoughts, and Castiel just waits patiently. He’s sure his sub is feeling dazed and euphoric, exhausted and drained, and still incredibly aroused. It’s understandable that he’s having trouble focusing. “Would exclusivity be just in the club, or…?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with significance, and Castiel debates his answer. On one hand, being exclusive in a general sense makes his heart blossom with warmth and excitement. But he remembers his promise to Billie to try and keep things light, to not make any promises, to wait for their contract to finish before labeling their relationship as anything but sexual. And for some odd reason, in this moment he thinks of his best friend, Medic67. He thinks about their flirty texts, about how they tell each other everything, and he can’t help but wonder if sparks would fly if they ever actually met.

“Just the club,” Castiel replies, then adds, “or any other club, or any side-play. If we agree to this, I’m your only dom, and you’re my only sub. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Master.”

Castiel fixates until the sub’s gaze rises to his, and they stare at each other for a very long moment, Cas trying to decipher all the emotions he sees there. There’s pleasure, and excitement, and relief…but also a dash of disappointment, which he doesn’t understand or like seeing.

“Then we’ll draw up the paperwork later this week, gorgeous boy.” He begins to walk over to his bag to retrieve the wipes, but hears his sub object for a moment, seemingly dazed and a little panicked. “I’ll be right back,” he says firmly. “Just going to clean you up before it’s time for dessert.”

“Dessert?” The word comes out slow and pondering, nearly a slur, and Castiel chuckles. He’s glad he had the foresight to bring some proper cleaning supplies, and uses a wet wipe to remove all the remaining juice and come from the man’s skin. 

“Yes, pet. My appetite isn’t quite satiated yet. Not while your cock is looking so delicious…” He brings a washcloth, still warm from the insulation in his bag, and the sensation of getting cleaned must feel nice, because his sub moans appreciatively. Once his skin is moist, Castiel lightly dries him with a towel, then examines his sub’s erection with piqued interest. He’s surprised he hasn’t come yet, though the cock cage obviously kept his dick at bay. He’s been very patient for his dom, a more beautiful platter than Castiel could ever hope for, and he’s excited to reward such obedience.

“Sweet boy, did you know you can boil down corn syrup?” He reaches into his bag, coming back with his final surprise of the evening. He drizzles the syrup carefully onto his sub’s throbbing cock and the man whimpers beneath him. “It’s the perfect topping for a cock this sweet. 

Castiel begins to stroke suddenly and the man cries out, back arched, already impossibly close to coming. Cas had only planned to stroke him to completion, but the way he’s wailing at every minor touch has the dom’s previous plan flying out the window. He takes a deep breath and lowers his mouth to his sub’s cock, hard and dripping with syrup, mouth tight and wet as he moves. Everything about it is intensely arousing—the light, sugary taste on his tongue; the stiff cock bobbing around in his mouth; the moans and cries of his sub as he abruptly comes undone.

“Master, Master,” he sobs, knees up and thigh shaking, “M-Master, gonna come—”

Castiel takes himself even lower, the cockhead hitting the back of his throat as he swallows, and a high-pitched cry resounds in the room as come shoots down his throat. He keeps sucking and licking until the cock is soft and shiny with spit, and his sub is still breathing ragged through the aftershocks. After a beat of silence, though, he lets out an unexpectedly chuckle. Taken off guard, Castiel asks, “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” There are tears in the corners of his eyes, likely from the intensity of his orgasm, and the man brushes them aside and exhales with a smile. “You went through that whole process of cleaning me up, and now I’m dirty again. 

Castiel frowns, looking down and noticing his pet’s lower stomach, shaft, and thighs are still dripping with syrup. “Well then,” Castiel says, lowering his mouth, “looks like I have more cleaning up to do.”

His sub expels a quick and breathy moan. As Castiel’s mouth wanders, licking and sucking and kissing, he wonders with a wicked curiosity if it would be possible for him to get his sub off for a second time tonight.

They have less than an hour left together, but as a good, giving dom…he’s more than willing to try.

***

Dean stretches and cracks his neck, smiling to himself like an idiot his whole ride home. That had been an amazing scene. Mind-blowingly hot and intense. He feels sexy, he feels important, he feels wanted, and it warms him from the inside out. He takes the long way home, clinging to his euphoric feeling for as long as he can. He can practically still feel the warm cloth cleaning his skin with care, and soft lips worshipping him with kisses and words.

He scolds himself for wallowing in those feelings a little too much. He knows he’s not nearly as important as he feels right now. He’s gotten pretty accustomed to doing the right thing without any fanfair. Making the sacrifices he needs to. Whether it was giving up baseball to work an after-school job to help his family, or saving a life in the back of his ambulance without a single thank you. He didn’t do those things for a “thank you,” he did them because it’s who he is. But sometimes he feels just a little bit…invisible. On nights like this, he feels seen—like he matters. His dom makes him feel like he’s the most important person in the world, even if it’s just to him.

He finally gets home and tip-toes in, so as not to wake bigfoot sleeping on the couch. He sees Sam’s phone dangling from his outstretched hand and has a moment where he’s tempted to snatch it and see who he’s been texting. The protective big brother in him wants to know who this new girl is. It’s been ages since Sam has seriously dated anyone, and Dean was beginning to worry Sam was gonna turn into a sad bachelor like himself. He shakes the thought out of his head though, knowing how much shit he’d be in if he really did that. The thought reminds him to check his phone, and he pulls up his Signal app as he carefully slides into bed, wincing a bit at the beating his ass had taken.

Medic67 11:13 PM >> **How’s your night going, cause I gotta say my ass is beat**

He chuckles at his own inside joke, flopping onto his side.

FlyBoy83 11:16PM >> **I bet you deserved it :P**

FlyBoy83 11:17PM >> **On a date?**

Dean hesitates as he reads the question. He feels strange, uncomfortable all of sudden. Almost like, by admitting he was seeing someone, he was cheating on FlyBoy somehow. The thought is utterly ridiculous—he isn’t dating anyone, not FlyBoy, and certainly not his dom. FlyBoy has told him plenty about his dates, and Dean has mentioned his sessions under the guise of a date. So why does it make his skin crawl now?

Medic67 11:23 PM >> **Sorta**

Medic67 11:23 PM >> **How bout you?**

He waits for the reply, biting hard on his puffy lower lip.

FlyBoy83 11:24PM >> **Sorta.**

Well okay, he deserved that. He lets out a long sigh, staring at the Signal app, willing the mystery man into the bed beside him.

FlyBoy83 11:26 PM >> **Home now, watching Jeopardy**

Medic67 11:26 PM >> **May I join you? ;)**

FlyBoy83 11:27 PM >> **Always**

FlyBoy83 11:27 PM >> **it’s a rerun though**

Dean settles in for the night, laughing and joking with FlyBoy as they try to type out the answers before the contestants. FlyBoy gets all the nerdy nature questions, but when it comes to pop culture, Dean blows him out of the water. They finish the show and he rubs the soothing cream his dom gave him into his warm skin, relishing in the lingering feel. It is going to make sitting in the ambulance tomorrow a pain in the ass, _literally_ , but it was so totally worth it.

Medic67 12:32 AM >> **Talk to you tomorrow, night Fly Boy**

FlyBoy83 12:32 AM >> **Night, sleep well ‘67.**

He half smiles at the nickname, then frowns that his best friend doesn’t even know his real name. He doesn’t know the name of the guy who’s been fucking him, either. He might have even had a chance to figure it out when he was digging through his dom’s bag earlier. For the life of him, though, he had such tunnel vision at the time that all he can remember is the damn bowls and food. Apart from the water bottle, he didn’t even notice the other items in the bag—way too deep in his subspace. Probably for the best. He knows his dom values his privacy and he doesn’t want to invade that and risk scaring him off. But he does wonder about FlyBoy’s name. His email had read James C. Novak…maybe his name is James? Dean would probably end up calling him Jimmy if his name really is James. Though somehow, that doesn’t quite fit his friend.

Dean falls asleep with the name _James_ on the tip of his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Food play, belt (spanking), Game show watching 
> 
> So, there’s this awesome thing we wanted to put on everyone’s radar. This year we’re both participating in the Fic Facers auction, where lovely readers bid on us to write a fic tailored specifically to their tastes. ALL of the proceeds go to Random Acts, and we’re really excited to write for such a great cause and get to talk one-on-one with two amazingly generous readers!! You can find more information about the auction [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/?fbclid=IwAR2FrMME7OoM4uElG53KpsvBQ5IxLUfWSfhnLlUf8JpxVjNZF3on19ARjF8), and read both of our profiles on the main home page. Only nine days until bidding begins!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends,  
> Sorry for the day delay in posting. Buckle up guys, this ones gonna be a roller coaster.  
> Love ya!
> 
> CB & TCBaby

Dean locks the stretcher into place, feeling it rattle as his belligerent patient bounces around. Jo eyes him from the back of the truck, and clearly they are both thinking the same thing about this guy.

“Fuckin' assholes. I’m fine!” the guy growls. Dean has taken this guy several times for psych eval over the years and he knows how violent the patient can get.

“Off your meds again, Mikey?” Dean asks cautiously, and that’s when the fist comes flying at him. He dodges in time so it doesn’t connect with his face, but the kick the guy lashes out catches Dean in the gut and he grunts from the blow. Jo is there quick as lightning to restrain the guy, and Dean grabs the ketamine.

“Hey Mikey?” he says, and the guy looks at him as Dean injects him in the arm. “Yippee-Ki-Ketamine, mother fucker.” Dean smiles as the guy already starts to slow and slump into the stretcher. Jo stands back up and catches her breath as Dean begins strapping the guy down, getting him secure.

“You okay?” Jo asks, looking him over. He waves her off, hoping he doesn’t have a bruise on his stomach. That would raise questions with his dom in their next session, though hopefully a bruise would heal by then.

It’s a quiet ride to the hospital and he happily hands over the patient to the ER staff. He pulls his shirt up to check his stomach, and it’s tender, but not turning colors yet. Really, it was a rookie move on his part to not just sedate the guy from the get-go, but sometimes Mikey just wants to ramble.

Medic67 4:05 PM >> **Ketamine is a goddamn godsend**

FlyBoy83 4:06 PM << **You’re not wrong. Difficult patient?**

Medic67 4:07 PM >> **Yeah dude got me good in the stomach too, glad I haven’t eaten yet**

FlyBoy83 4:07 PM << **Are you hurt???**

Medic67 4:08 PM >> **Nah I’ll live just a little sore**

Dean hesitates a second, leaning against the truck and staring up at the hospital. He’s not sure he’s ready to actually meet FlyBoy yet—and all that might come with that—but he still wants to spend time with him.

Medic67 4:10 PM >> **You free tonight? There’s an Indiana Jones marathon on**

Medic67 4:11 PM >> **We could both watch and text about how hot Harrison Ford is**

He feels so lame. Is he really asking FlyBoy on a cyber date? Is he that much of a coward? _Yes._ The answer is yes—he is that lame, and he is that much of a coward. But baby steps, right?

FlyBoy83 4:15 PM << **He is pretty sexy wielding that whip…**

FlyBoy83 4:15 PM << **Count me in :)**

Dean grins, rubbing at his stomach as he climbs up into the truck. Jo joins him, and since it’s such a warm night, they roll the windows down to enjoy the fresh air. Fingers thrum against the door and he watches Jo reach over to turn on the radio. The first chords play and he rolls his eyes while his partner grins like a Cheshire cat.

“ _Oh, I can't fight this feeling any longer, and yet I'm still afraid to let it flow. What started out this friendship has grown stronger, I only wish I had the strength to let it show…”_ Jo sings it out and smacks Dean across the chest. “Come on, Winchester,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes, but can’t help joining in as they both start belting it out at the top of their lungs. “ _And I can't fight this feeling anymore, I've forgotten what I started fighting for, it's time to bring this ship into the shore, and throw away the oars, forever!!!”_

They sing the entire way back to the station and fall out of the truck laughing as they head into the break room.

“You seem happy,” Dean says, watching the general joy coming off her.

She shrugs a little. “Back at you. It’s like someone drained the grumpy out of you.”

“Hey, I am not grumpy,” he retorts.

“You’re right, but you _were_ grumpy, till you got your little phone bestie,” she grins. “Love looks good on you.” She laughs and jogs off toward dispatch, leaving him speechless in her path.

He’s so not in love…that is just ridiculous. And anyway, if he was in love it would be with the guy fucking him, wouldn’t it? The flesh-and-bone person? He does care for his dom—it’s gone beyond just sex for him, but there is still this…block there, this vast unknown of who he really is. With FlyBoy, though, he feels like he knows him and can be himself like he can’t with anyone else. Falling for two equally unavailable people is really fucking with him. He tries to shake it off as he carries through the rest of his shift.

At shift’s end, Jo hightails it out of there at top speed with a wave over her shoulder, and Dean hustles to get home too. He grabs a bottle of whiskey and a sandwich for dinner, and is glad to see Sam has gone out for the night. It’s a warm night so he cracks a window and turns on a fan, already sweating a bit. He strips down to a t-shirt and black boxer briefs before settling himself on the couch.

FlyBoy83 5:53 PM << **What station is the movie on?**

Dean smiles, typing out a quick reply.

Medic67 5:57 PM>> **AMC**

Medic67 6:12 PM >> **So what did you get for dinner?**

FlyBoy83 6:13 PM << **Nothing exciting, leftovers from last night.**

Medic67 6:14 PM >> **I just grabbed a sandwich on the way home, and before you say anything I got fruit instead of chips**

FlyBoy83 6:18 PM << **Good boy. I am proud of you.**

Dean shivers at the good boy statement, feels it like fingers over his skin and can’t help but hear it in his dom's voice. He shakes the thought out of his head as he reads the next message.

FlyBoy83 6:18 PM << **And I most certainly did not have potato chips today…**

Medic67 6:19 PM >> **you little fucker! Come on man you can’t cheat if I can’t**

FlyBoy83 6:22 PM << **First off, I am big fucker, not a little one. And second, in my defense I had a kale salad for lunch.**

Dean chokes on his sandwich a bit as he reads FlyBoy’s, _big fucker,_ comment. He wonders just how tall he is, anyway. Dean doesn’t really care if a guy is taller or shorter, but he does like it if he’s strong. He has a thing for thick thighs and broad shoulders. Kinda like his dom. He shakes the thought away and goes back to his signal app.

Medic67 6:25 PM >> **Okay I’ll let it pass this time, though I seriously worry for your mental health if your resorting to kale**

FlyBoy83 6:28 PM << **I hear kale is excellent for mental acuity.**

Medic67 6:29 PM >> **where’d you learn that from Dr. Oz**

Medic67 6:29 PM >> **(laughing emoji)**

FlyBoy83 6:31PM << **(scowling emoji)**

FlyBoy83 6:31 PM << **I’m not answering that…**

Medic67 6:31 PM >> **(laughing emoji)**

FlyBoy83 6:31 PM << **You’re a jerk, you know that?**

Medic67 6:32 PM >> **fuck man your making my sides hurt from laughing so hard**

He grabs his sore stomach and tries to stop his laughing, ‘cause it really does hurt. He pours himself a glass of whiskey and takes a burning sip before looking back at his phone.

FlyBoy83 6:43 PM << **How are you doing? Still sore after that patient?**

He rolls his eyes. FlyBoy, always the worrier. Dean shouldn’t have even mentioned it earlier in the day. Taking another sip of whiskey, he impulsively pulls up his shirt and snaps a picture of his stomach. It’s an awkward angle, and the top of his briefs is visible, like the shadow of a bruise that's forming. He feels a little self-conscious about his lack of six pack, but he hits send anyway.

Medic67 6:49 PM >> **{ image upload }**

Medic67 6:49 PM >> **see not so bad**

He almost puts a question mark at the end of the sentence, but thankfully catches himself. He isn’t that desperate or fishing for compliments. He begins to fidget as he watches the three typing dots appear and disappear several times without a reply. Fucking _finally_ a message pops up.

FlyBoy83 7:01 PM << **Bruise doesn’t look bad. You could still ice it though.**

FlyBoy83 7:02 PM << **Can I be honest for a minute?**

Medic67 7:05 PM >> **always**

FlyBoy83 7:09 PM << **I really want to hit the guy that bruised such beautiful skin.**

Dean feels a heat creep into his cheeks at the words.

Medic67 7:12 PM >> **I wouldn’t call it beautiful, and believe me it’s not that bad**

FlyBoy83 7:13 PM << **We have different definitions of beauty, then.**

FlyBoy83 7:13 PM << **And I still want to hit him.**

Medic67 7:15 PM >> **okay Muhammad Ali :)**

Dean settles further down on the couch and turns up the volume as _Raiders_ begins. He watches Ford, all tanned skinned and sweat on his brow dodging poisoned arrows, and he can’t help but get a little hard. He’s three whiskeys in by the time they get to the plane propeller fight scene. They’ve been messaging on and off about how sexy Ford is and he keeps day-dreaming about Indiana wrapping his whip around Dean’s neck and pulling on it while he fucks him from behind.

Medic67 7:46 PM >> **that fucking whip man it’s got me pitching a tent**

He runs a hand down the front of his briefs again, fondling his balls in a slow rolling motion.

FlyBoy83 7:48 PM << **Have kink for whips, huh?**

Medic67 7:50 PM >> **you don’t know the half of it**

FlyBoy83 7:57 PM << **You're not alone.**

Medic67 8:02 PM >> **you a whiskey man?**

FlyBoy83 8:03 PM << **Can be, but drinking gin and tonic tonight.**

Medic67 8:12 PM >> **gin tastes like rubbing alcohol**

Medic67 8:25 PM >> **fuck I’m horny this movie was a bad idea**

He sighs as he continues to rub at his growing bulge, wishing it was someone else’s hands.

FlyBoy83 8:27 PM << **You can just take care of it, you know.**

Medic67 8:28 PM >> **yeah?**

Medic67 8:28 PM >> **how do you suggest I do that?**

He has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he’s dancing a line with his friend now, one that he might not want to cross. The boner in his briefs has completely different ideas, and the whiskey makes it easy enough to push that little voice down.

FlyBoy83 8:32 PM << **Well, you could start by wrapping a hand around that hard cock of yours.**

Medic67 8:32 PM >> **fuck yeah okay, that could work**

Medic67 8:33 PM >> **what about you?**

He slides down lower on the couch, his palm slick with sweat as he wraps it around his dick, just lightly squeezing.

FlyBoy83 8:39 PM << **Hard, very very hard.**

FlyBoy83 8:41 PM << **Does it feel good?**

Dean nods a second before he realizes FlyBoy can’t see him.

Medic67 8:45 PM >> **so good, its really hot**

FlyBoy83 8:47 PM << **Bet you look sexy working up a sweat.**

FlyBoy83 8:48 PM << **How hard are you?**

He bites his bottom lip, looking at the damp spot forming on his briefs as he begins to move his hand in a slow slide.

Medic67 8:53 PM >> **all the way there, feels amazing**

FlyBoy83 8:54 PM << **I’m stroking my cock now too. Bet you’re all wet already, aren’t you?**

Medic67 8:56 PM >> **yeah, so wet**

He moans a little as he increases his speed, wishing he had lube but he’s too into it to stop now.

FlyBoy83 8:58 PM << **Are you a bottom, imagining Indy pounding you right now?**

Medic67 9:01 PM >> **fuck yes**

FlyBoy83 9:01 PM << **Bet you’re tight and warm.**

FlyBoy83 9:03 PM << **You’d feel so good on his cock.**

FlyBoy83 9:04 PM << **All wet and open, just begging to be fucked.**

FlyBoy83 9:04 PM << **God, so hard right now just thinking about it.**

All the breath feels stolen from Dean as the filthy words bring him closer and closer to the edge. He presses his thumb under the head of his dick, feels the growing pulsing need there.

Medic67 9:08 PM >> **wanna be filled up so bad, need to be stuffed full**

And it’s the fucking truth. He imagines firm hands on his hips and the burning stretch as a thick cock splits him open.

FlyBoy83 9:10 PM << **Fuck you so hard you’d feel me for days.**

FlyBoy83 9:12 PM << **Bet you make the best sounds, don’t you?**

Medic67 9:13 PM >> **yes god yes**

It’s all he can manage to type as his balls are tightening up on him.

FlyBoy83 9:13 PM << **Gonna come all over your briefs?**

FlyBoy83 9:13 PM << **Come for me.**

He whimpers, and a few quick twists of his wrist have him spilling hard into his hand. He lets out a long, low groan as his oversensitive cock twitches against the now wet fabric. He feels wrecked, like an utter mess as his head lolls back against the couch. Eyes slipping closed he can almost feel phantom fingers carding through his hair and a whispered, _good boy,_ echoing in his ear.

FlyBoy83 9:19 PM << **All satisfied?**

Medic67 9:22 PM >> **very**

Medic67 9:22 PM >> **you?**

FlyBoy83 9:23 PM << **Completely.**

That makes him smile a little, eyes slipping closed again. It takes a second for his mind to come fully back online when he realizes that he just had phone sex with his online best friend. His online best friend whose name he doesn’t even fucking know. He has got be out of his goddamn mind.

***

The come has barely cooled on Castiel’s abdomen before the panic begins to settle in. Did he just…did they just…

He groans and tosses his phone absently onto a couch cushion, then does a walk of shame into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Thank goodness he never let Gabriel talk him into becoming roommates, because having to conceal something like this from his brother sounds tortuous. He cleans up and stares at himself in the mirror, his mind moving a thousand miles a minute as he attempts to grasp his feelings on _what_ just happened.

Well, sexting. Sexting is what happened.

So, okay, they’ve crossed a line. A definite, clear, platonic friendship line has been crossed tonight. But…hasn’t it been crossed for a while now?

Whether he wants to admit it or not, Castiel has been developing more-than-friendship feelings for ‘67 for months now. Which is ridiculous, because he has no name, no photo (except for the shot of an exceptionally sexy stomach that prompted this whole sexting incident), no identifying information about his friend. He could’ve stood right behind the man in line at his favorite coffee shop, or honked at him in traffic, or made eye contact with him on the T. By society’s standards, they don’t even know each other.

But they do.

They know each other better than anyone.

If they don’t—then how does Castiel know ‘67 pretends to drink his coffee black, but secretly loves a sugary frappuccino when he’s feeling down? Or that he’s the biggest nerd Castiel has ever met, obsessed with horror flicks and classic rock and dropping obscure references like it’s his day job? ‘67 is funny and charming, dedicated to his brother and his medic partner. He holds his sense of family above everything else. He can be insecure and reckless, can push people away when he’s feeling overwhelmed, but above all, he’s intelligent and brave and loyal and fierce. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a friend or a potential boyfriend, and Castiel knows all of these things because…because…

“Fuck,” he whispers, clenching his eyes shut and leaning over the bathroom sink. How could he be falling for someone he’s never actually met? And what does this mean for his gorgeous sub, his perfect sub, the man he never intended to give up?

He wanders back to the couch and sees his phone lit up with new Signal notifications. He’s torn between wanting to avoid looking at his phone forever, terrified that ‘67 has realized he’s made a mistake and has no interest in being more than friends with Castiel. Or, _Flyboy,_  Cas thinks dimly, because that’s all ‘67 knows him as. They still haven’t exchanged names.

In the end, though, his curiosity wins out. He scrambles to read his missed messages:

Medic67 9:34 PM << **sooooo**

Medic67 9:42 PM << **you somewhere freaking out or is that just me?**

Medic67 9:45 PM << **kidding**

Medic67 9:46 PM << **sorta**

Medic67 9:52 PM << **okay don’t mind me, just gonna crawl my embarrassed ass into a hole or something**

FlyBoy83 9:56 PM >> **No! No, I’m so sorry. I left my phone for a bit. I’m not freaking out. Well, okay, maybe a little. But it’s a good thing.**

FlyBoy83 9:58 PM >> **I don’t want your ass to be embarrassed.**

FlyBoy83 10:00 PM >> **But I bet it would still be cute.**

Castiel has no clue where all this flirting has come from, but these are things he’s been imagining himself saying to ‘67 for a long time. Dirty talking them both to completion twenty minutes ago has clearly broken down all the carefully crafted boundaries Cas spend months setting up.

Great.

FlyBoy83 10:02 PM >> **I’m sorry, that was…**

FlyBoy83 10:02 PM >> **I have no idea what to do now.**

FlyBoy83 10:03 PM >> **Tell me how to talk to you after all this because I am honestly floundering.**

Medic67 10:05 PM << **hey cool it, its okay. sorta adorable that we’re both floundering out here**

Medic67 10:05 PM << **and we’re doing it together**

Medic67 10:06 PM << **we obviously both care which is a good place to start**

Castiel nods, and then realizes his friend can’t actually see him. He settles in on the couch, throwing his feet over the side, and tries to breathe.

FlyBoy83 10:07 PM >> **True. And I do.**

FlyBoy83 10:07 PM >> **Care about you, I mean.**

Medic67 10:08 PM << **cool. In like a friends who occasionally get each other off way?**

FlyBoy83 10:09 PM >> **Maybe. Maybe for now. Or maybe more than that, if that’s okay?**

Medic67 10:10 PM << **well while we’re deciding, I got an idea**

Medic67 10:10 PM << **let’s take a shot every time you say maybe**

Medic67 10:13 PM << **we’ll be wasted in like 2 secs flat**

Castiel snorts, glaring in amusement at his phone.

FlyBoy83 10:15 PM >> **ha ha ha**

FlyBoy83 10:15 PM >> **Can I ask you a question?**

Medic67 10:16 PM << **I mean, you just made me come sooo shoot**

Castiel huffs a laugh, both exasperated at how his friend always turns everything into a joke, but also strangely thankful that he’s breaking the tension between them. Maybe what happened between them is no big deal. Friends help friends have orgasms every day…right…?

Castiel inhales long and full, practically trembling at the significance of the question he’s about to ask, and sends:

FlyBoy83 10:18 PM >> **Would you consider meeting me?**

He watches the text bubble appear, then disappear, then reappear again. It’s grueling and tormenting and it takes ‘67 much too long to reply.

Medic67 10:20 PM << **yeah. I mean that’s scary as hell if i’m being honest, but i want to someday**

FlyBoy83 10:20 PM >> **someday?**

Medic67 10:20 PM << **someday. doesn’t mean no. i just wanna take things slow. I couldn't stand it if I messed things up, not with you**

Part of Castiel’s anxiety melts away then, and he realizes ‘67 is feeling the same way he is—confused and excited and scared.

FlyBoy83 10:21 PM >> **You won’t. But we can take things as slow as you want.**

Medic67 10:22 PM << **can i ask you a question**

FlyBoy83 10:22 PM >> **I mean, I just made you come sooo shoot**

Medic67 10:23 PM << **hilarious**

Medic67 10:25 PM << **what about that guy you’re seeing?**

The question makes Castiel’s stomach flip, and while he’s not ready to be totally honest with ‘67 about his life as a dom, he knows he has to reveal some version of the truth.

FlyBoy83 10:27 PM >> **I’m still seeing him. It’s amazing but casual. I honestly don’t know how long it’ll last.**

Medic67 10:27 PM << **gotcha**

FlyBoy83 10:28 PM >> **Does that bother you?**

Medic67 10:28 PM << **would be pretty hypocritical of me since i’m in the same boat**

Medic67 10:28 PM << **but if i told you it made me happy I’d be lying**

FlyBoy83 10:29 PM >> **Is that so?**

FlyBoy83 10:29 PM >> **Jealousy looks good on you.**

Medic67 10:30 PM << **everything looks good on me**

Medic67 10:30 PM << **dunno if your aware but i am very hot**

Castiel laughs out loud, shaking his head.

FlyBoy83 10:32 PM >> **Let me meet you in person sometime and I’ll be the judge of that.**

***

Days turn into weeks and pretty soon it’s July—right in the middle of the hottest summer in years. When he’s not working night shift or waking up at the crack of dawn to go running, Castiel is messaging constantly with ‘67. While they’re still sharing their usual day-to-day updates, they’re also flirting on a regular basis and enjoying very satisfying sexting sessions most nights. Cas has learned that, when it comes to anything sex-related, ‘67 loves being told what to do, when and how to come, which Castiel’s dom side is all too happy to provide. It’s actually a little surprising how much sexual chemistry they seem to have just by messaging. Mostly they get off through dirty talk, but sometimes they’ll swap links to their favorite pornos and watch together, commenting on how good and wet and tight the fucking is. Castiel wants to ask his friend for more photos of himself, maybe even a video or two, but he’s scared to frighten him away. ‘67 is the one setting the pace of their developing relationship, it seems, and Castiel is just along for the ride.

But no matter how strong their connection is growing, nothing can replace the real thing, and Castiel’s sessions with his sub are no less intense or meaningful. When he goes a while without seeing the gorgeous green-eyed man, he can convince himself that their connection is purely physical…but with every kiss, every aftercare embrace, every sigh into each other’s arms, he remembers all over again how well they fit together. How good, how right, it feels. He leaves their sessions feeling more wound up and stressed than when he entered, acknowledging to himself that when it comes to his sub and ‘67, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. No pun intended, though Castiel is definitely getting off more now than he has since he was a teenager. Sometimes it’s exhausting, feeling like he has two lovers but neither of them can offer themselves to him fully.

Lately, all he wants is someone permanent and committed to hold onto. By the end of July, he’s practically bursting at the seams. Which is why he begins to channel all his pent up energy into researching what’s killing off honey bees.

Naturally.

He’s sitting cross-legged in a private room at the B&B, setting up early up for their upcoming scene. Usually he has his phone turned off by now, but he can’t seem to say goodbye to ‘67 today, even though it’s just for a few hours.

FlyBoy83 4:07 PM >> **Did you know that a study from Harvard suggests that pesticides might lead to impairment of honey bee neurological functions, specifically memory, cognition, or behavior?**

Medic67 4:08 PM << **oh baby talk dirty to me**

FlyBoy83 4:08 PM >> **(eye roll emoji)**

FlyBoy83 4:08 PM >> **I’m serious.**

Medic67 4:09 PM << **okay okay, sorry. uhh whaddya think is causing it, Scully? aliens or what?**

FlyBoy83 4:10 PM >> **I don’t understand that reference.**

Medic67 4:11 PM << **the fact that your my best friend is shocking sometimes**

FlyBoy83 4:12 PM >> ***you’re**

Medic67 4:13 PM << **who are you the grammar police?!**

FlyBoy83 4:14 PM >> **If so, I would’ve arrested you a long time ago…**

Castiel checks the time on his phone and realizes his sub is likely already outside in the waiting area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the green light on Cas’ door.

FlyBoy83 4:16 PM >> **I have to run. Talk later?**

Medic67 4:17 PM << **if YOUR lucky**

The dom snorts and shakes his head, feeling light and carefree as he powers down his cellphone. He tucks it away into the safe confines of his bag, then walks towards the door and flicks the outer light switch. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, he’s wearing comfortably soft denim and a form-fitting t-shirt, staring straight ahead when his sub ends.

It takes his breath away all over again—the green eyes, the cheeks peppered with stubble, the bowlegs Castiel wants wrapped around his waist as he fucks the stunning man entering the room. Their eyes meet briefly, heavily, full of the familiar lust and longing, before his sub’s eyes shoot down to the floor. He begins stripping immediately, a beautifully trained little slut, and once he’s folded his jeans and shirt and slipped off his shoes and socks, he’s just standing in the open room in nothing but a pair of panties.

The pair he’s chosen is a black, transparent lace thong, and Castiel fights a shudder when the curve of that perfect ass fills up his vision.

“Looking gorgeous as always, slut,” he mumbles, trying to keep his voice even but knowing that he’s far from calm and collected. “Do you like my gift?” Cas had mailed off this particular pair of panties to his sub just last week.

“Yes. Thank you, Master,” the man breathes, shoulders curved and eyes down as he waits for instruction.

“We’re going to do something a little different today. Something my little whore has been fantasizing about.” Castiel pauses considerably before pulling up a chair into the center of the room, the sound of the scrapping metal vibrating in the air. He takes a seat slowly, eyes still trained on his sub while the man in question still stares respectfully at the floor. “Go to the back table. You’ll find a stereo and a collection of CDs. I’d like you to choose something, anything you’d like, then come to me.”

If the flash of surprise is any indication, his sub has completely forgotten about the stripper/client fantasy he mentioned months ago in his paperwork. Good, Castiel thinks. That’ll make this even better. He begins sorting through the CD options, and at one point Cas is pretty sure he hears him snicker, so he calls, “Something funny, slut?”

“N-No, Master, just…” He clears his throat then turns around, making eye contact for the first time today. “Air Supply? Really?”

Castiel is torn between laughing and scowling, so he does a combination of both. “Have we already decided to be a brat today?”

“No, Master,” he whispers, turning red in the face.

“Good. Now prove it. Pick a song and come to me. Now.”

After a few seconds of shuffling Castiel hears, _You don’t have to be beautiful to turn me on…_

He grins, his sub catching his smile as he turns around and walks towards his dom. Castiel knees are spread open, leaned comfortably back against the chair, and he pulls out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs from his pocket. His sub’s eyes go wide, his cock is already beginning to tent the thin fabric of his panties.

“You really are the most gorgeous dancer at this club,” Castiel rumbles, voice low and suggestive. “I’d pay good money for a lap dance, beautiful. I’ve been daydreaming all night about that ass rubbing against my cock…”

“I-I…” The sub swallows, obviously unsure of the parameters of their role playing.

“Speak freely, good boy,” Castiel coaxes gently, as Prince sings _I want to be your fantasy, maybe you could be mine…_ “I want you to do anything you want.”

“I want to dance on you,” his sub whispers, fingers flexing suggestively on the band of his tight thong. His eyes roam over the handcuffs questioningly as the song plays on. “Are you going to handcuff me, Master?”

“No, you’re going to handcuff me,” Castiel replies, and yes, he thinks, this was a great idea. Anything is worth this look of absolute astonishment on his sub’s face. “Now. To the back of the chair. Hurry up slut, or I’ll be tempted to touch you and I’ll get kicked out of this club.”

His sub whimpers softly at the thought and takes the handcuffs with shaking hands, securing them to the back of the chair. They’re not truly locked, though—as the dom Castiel would never fully restrain himself, because he needs to be in-control of his sub’s safety and wellbeing. But the illusion is enough, and his sub’s cock is hard and slipping from the side of his panties before they’ve even begun.

The song is halfway through by the time his sub is finally lowering himself into Castiel’s lap, and he starts off slow from behind, grinding down lightly on Cas’ thigh. He bends over and touches the floor, giving Castiel an excellent view of the thong sinfully slipped inside his ass crack, and his breath completely unsteady.

“Stunning,” Cas sighs, staring at the firm cheeks he wants desperately to grab, to kiss and lick, to make red with a paddle. He thought he’d have to make a show of fighting against the handcuffs, but when he does pull against the chains, the urge to touch isn’t fabricated at all. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

The man’s ass returns to Castiel’s lap, this time landing directly on his half-hard cock, and Castiel moans before he can stop himself. He thought this fantasy was only for his sub, but it’s doing wonders to his libido. The man’s hips begin to circle in rhythm with the song, grinding down and moaning softly, planting the bulge in Castiel’s jeans directly between his ass cheeks and arching his back sensuously.

“Is this what you call…dancing…slut?” Castiel hadn’t expected his sub to essentially become a power bottom, and even though Cas is still fully clothed, he feels like they’re on the brink of fucking right here in this chair.

“Depends,” his sub won’t stop grinding, grinding, grinding, “am I allowed to kiss you?”

_I just want your extra time and your kiss…_

“You can touch me all you want, remember?” Castiel makes a show of clinking the handcuffs against the bar. “For one night only. I’m at your mercy.”

Suddenly the friction between his sub’s ass and Cas’ cock is gone, and the man is spinning around and swinging a leg over Castiel’s lap, straddling him. Their lips crash together, and even with his hands behind his back, Castiel leads the kiss, licking his way between his sub’s slowly parting lips. The room is filled with labored breathing, with sighs and moans and the sound of Prince serenading them. They make out frantically, Castiel biting down on his sub’s lip hard enough that he breaks away and moans. His hands are all over Castiel—gripping his neck, slipping under his collared shirt, gripping his shoulders tightly as their hard cocks rub against each other.

“Want you so bad,” his sub whimpers, and Castiel’s lips wander down to his neck, concentrating a spot he knows the man prefers his hickeys. “Master…”

“So alluring,” Castiel mumbles, licking and sucking on the only patch of skin he can currently reach. The song begins over again and his sub is suddenly chuckling above him, his laughs making Castiel withdraw.

“What is it?” he asks somewhat gruffly.

“This song…” The first verse is playing again, but Castiel is so distracted by the man writhing around in his lap that he hardly cares. “I think I put it on repeat by accident. This is the…sixth time we’ve heard it?”

“I didn’t even notice,” Castiel admits, and now they’re both chuckling, staring deeply into each other’s eyes and grinning.

“Guess I was just trying to have my Vivian moment,” the green-eyed man admits with a slight blush. Cas crinkles his eyebrows together and tilts his head.

“Come again?”

“ _Pretty Woman,_ the bathtub scene,” his sub supplies easily, but Cas just blinks at him. “Really? Am I surrounded by people who know nothing about pop culture?”

There’s a flicker of emotion that crosses his sub’s face, but Castiel can’t quite pinpoint it. Confliction? Sadness?

“I don’t understand that reference,” he deadpans, thinking his sub will smile and laugh, will kiss him again.

Instead he frowns deeper and closes his eyes.

“Are you okay, good boy?”

“I, uh…” The man looks away, but it’s different this time. It’s not a show of respect but a wandering mind, his brain obviously trying to work out a complicated emotion. “I’m sorry, you just reminded me of…someone…” He exhales a shuddering breath and stands up, looking pale. “I don’t know—I’m just so—”

“Take a deep breath,” Castiel instructs calmly, not sure where this sudden drop is coming from, but trying his best to defuse the situation and help his sub. “Relax for me, baby.”

The pet name slips out his mouth completely naturally, and while it feels monumental to Castiel, his sub is panicking so hard that he doesn’t even notice.

“That’s all I’ve been doing for months now—holding my breath…waiting. I just, I can’t explain…it’s not fair. I’m so sorry—” He pinches the bridge of his nose and whispers, “Impala.”

The safeword hits Castiel like a bucket of ice water, and he’s out of the makeshift handcuffs before he can even gather what just happened, gathering his sub into his arms as the man drops heavily to his knees.

***

He’s crying—why the hell is he crying? Struggling and failing to compose himself, Dean’s body shakes with the effort of it. Strong arms are wrapped around him and a hand is rubbing circles on his back. He feels terrible, like the worst kind of scum of the earth, and it makes him all but queasy. The hardest part is he isn’t even sure why he feels this way. It was a perfectly good scene, not even that intense, it was just an overwhelming feeling of wrong that had settled over him.

His throat feels tight like he can’t swallow, and his muscles keep tensing and flinching. It’s like his whole body is glitching out of his control, and he grips his dom’s shoulders like he’s clinging to a life raft.

“Slow deep breaths, okay? Just follow me, in and out,” his dom soothes him in that low, deep sexy rumble. Dean follows his dom’s breath, even though it’s a struggle. The logical, medical side of his brain knows it’s a panic attack, knows that he is okay, if only he could convince his body. He has no idea how long he stands there when finally things seem to loosen and slow. The tension and fear is being replaced with embarrassment and guilt. Goddamn it, he fucking safeworded…he can’t believe he did that.

“S-sorry, Master I—”

“Hush, don’t apologize, all right? Never ever apologize for using your safeword.” Dean relaxes a little more against his dom’s chest. “Can you come lie down with me?”

He nods in response and his master leads him over to the bed. He immediately curls up on top of his chest, wrapping naked legs around his dom’s, still clad in jeans. He pulls a blanket over them and Dean tries to settle, but he still feels this monumental sense of… bad. It’s then that for just a moment he wishes FlyBoy were there. He wants his friend. Which makes him feel even worse as the kind man holding him strokes his hair and whispers calming words.

“Open your mouth, sweet boy,” his dom directs, and without a second thought he obeys as a piece of chocolate hits his tongue. He hums closing his mouth trying to focus on the sweet creamy candy rather than the thoughts swirling in his head. “Any better?”

He shrugs a little. They stay like that for a while and he looks to see they are past their time with the room. He clears his throat a few times before speaking, “Uh, I think we gotta go.”

His dom continues stroking his hair and makes no move to get up. “I already texted Billie, we have the room as long as we want.” He feels a kiss pressed to his forehead, and Dean really doesn’t deserve this man.

“Thank you. Sorry for freaking out,” He nuzzles into the crook of the man’s neck, breathing in the spicy cologne he loves so much.

“I told you there is nothing to apologize for. When you're ready, can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m uh, not really sure.” He thinks on it for a second as he forms his words, and his ever patient dom just waits for him. “You reminded me of someone, someone I’ve gotten closer to recently and when I thought of him and thought of you I just felt…guilty, I guess. Like I was cheating or something.”

He feels the body below him stiffen for a moment. “Are you in a monogamous relationship with this person?” His dom’s voice seems to be tighter than before.

“No, god no, I wouldn’t be here if that were the case,” he says quickly, feeling his dom’s tension release a bit. “No, I mean we aren’t in any kind of relationship, we’re friends. But sometimes I think there could be something more.” Why on earth is he here bleeding out his heart to his dom about some other guy? “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this. I should be stowing my crap along with my clothes when I get here.”

“You’re only human. You can’t always just pick and choose what emotions you want to feel. I don’t expect that the sub who walks through my door isn’t a complete and complex person outside of this place. Do you want to tell me about…them?”

He wants to, but Dean thinks that the last thing he needs is to be thinking of FlyBoy now. “No, I just want to be here with you.” He lets his eyes close and feels the fingers carding through his hair. “It was a really hot scene. I wanna try it again sometime.”

“We can always do that, pet.” Warm lips graze his own, and he stretches up to meet them in a soft and easy kiss. He takes the comfort where he can get it, and for just a little, lets his dom take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Sexting, lap dances, panic attack, sub drop
> 
> Just a reminder that this year we’re both participating in the Fic Facers auction, where lovely readers bid on us to write a fic tailored specifically to their tastes. ALL of the proceeds go to Random Acts, and we’re really excited to write for such a great cause and get to talk one-on-one with two amazingly generous readers!! You can find more information about the auction [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/?fbclid=IwAR2FrMME7OoM4uElG53KpsvBQ5IxLUfWSfhnLlUf8JpxVjNZF3on19ARjF8), and read both of our profiles on the main home page.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!! A long chapter a whole day early…
> 
> Buckle up, babes. It's gonna be a wild ride. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> CB & TCBaby

Castiel wakes with sunlight streaming in through his window, feet tangled up in his bedsheets. It’s a rare Sunday morning when he’s not working, it’s exceptionally sunny, and he was just having a dream about his sub that makes him roll over onto his stomach, rutting his half-hard cock lazily against the mattress. He should really get dressed, should go running before the pavement gets too warm, but he’d rather enjoy alone time in bed first.

Hmm… Not that he has to do this _alone_.

FlyBoy83 10:21 AM >> **What are you wearing?**

Medic67 10:22 AM << **good morning to you too**

Medic67 10:22 AM << **nothing actually ;)**

Medic67 10:23 AM << **just got out the shower but no time for fun**

Castiel flips onto his back, frowning pathetically.

FlyBoy83 10:24 AM >> **I thought you didn’t have to be at Ellen’s until lunchtime?**

Medic67 10:24 AM << **we don’t but i told her we’d grab burgers and bratwurst at the store first**

FlyBoy83 10:25 AM >> **You know, I have a bratwurst here that would probably appreciate your attention much more…**

FlyBoy83 10:26 AM >> **Too much?**

Medic67 10:29 AM << **definitely not**

Medic67 10:29 AM << **i was laughing so hard that sammy came in and asked if i was okay**  

Medic67 10:30 AM << **as much as i would love to get off with you sweetheart, i really gotta get dressed :(**

Castiel bristles at first, palming his erection and imagining all the filthy things he _could_ be saying to his friend to get them both off…but at the word “sweetheart” all trace of Cas’ impatience fades into the background. They’ve never used pet names before, and Cas doesn’t usually use them at all, except for—well, while soothing his sub a few weeks ago during subdrop. It had slipped right out of him, as natural as breathing. They only have one scene before they reexamine the terms of their contract, and Castiel is brimming with good ideas…

FlyBoy83 10:31 AM >> **It’s okay :)**

Medic67 10:32 AM << **i have been wanting to ask you something though**

FlyBoy83 10:33 AM >> **Yeah?**

Medic67 10:34 AM << **its kinda a big deal**

Medic67 10:34 AM << **you may wanna get your hand off your dick for a min**

Castiel snorts. He hadn’t been stroking himself at the moment, but he’s tempted to start back up just to spite him.

FlyBoy83 10:35 AM >> **I find my dick is usually involved in all my important conversations.**  

Medic67 10:36 AM << **that must make for awkward family holidays**

Castiel laughs, smile broad and gummy.

FlyBoy83 10:37 AM >> **Funny, but you’re stalling. Is everything okay?**

They’ve been in a state of limbo for a while now. In between their lighthearted moments of banter, or tantalizing bouts of sexting, Castiel finds himself unusually anxious. There are just too many uncertainties in his life right now, and he doesn’t know if ‘67 is a friend who he occasionally gets X-rated with, or…the potential life partner he’s been searching for. At the same time there’s his sub, who he’s ridiculously in-sync with sexually, but has no idea if it could ever grow to be more. There was a time when Castiel would’ve done anything to take his sub out for coffee, to get to know him on a more personal level, but now that he’s falling for his best friend…would it be unfair to involve anyone else in his messy love life?

He groans, throwing a pillow over his face, breathing through the cotton pillowcase. He feels his phone vibrate into the mattress and checks his Signal app, reading the message over and over again so he’s sure he hasn’t misread:

Medic67 10:41 AM << **well okay so. I know you’ve been wanting to speed things along between us for a while and im sorry ive been taking so long, just a lot to process. but sam dragged me to this bookstore last weekend and i saw something that made me think of you and i sorta bought it for you on impulse and then i realized how crazy that is because i dont even know your name or have your address. so i guess this is me asking for them**

Castiel’s heart is pounding, his fingers flying on the screen before he has a second to doubt himself.

FlyBoy83 10:42 AM >> **Castiel Novak 3215 Washington St. Apt 401 Boston, MA 02130**

Medic67 10:42 AM << **dude you gave that up way too quickly**

Medic67 10:43 AM << **what if i was a serial killer playing the long game**

Medic67 10:43 AM << **you cant just give your address out to people you meet on the internet!!!**

FlyBoy83 10:44 AM >> **Did you want me to say no, or…?**

Medic67 10:45 AM << **no, but i dunno**

Medic67 10:45 AM << **i thought you might think me asking was weird**

FlyBoy83 10:46 AM >> **I’ve been wanting to meet you for weeks. Months really. I’m in this, whatever you want it to be. Remember?**

FlyBoy83 10:46 AM >> **Plus I love getting presents.**

FlyBoy83 10:46 AM >> **If I’m being honest, it’s probably more about the present than it is you.**

Medic67 10:47 AM << **oh is that so??**

Medic67 10:47 AM << **somebody’s present is definitely going in the trash then**

Castiel laughs again, twisting the sheet up close to his chest.

FlyBoy83 10:48 AM >> **I’ll take my chances. So what’s your name?**

Medic67 10:48 AM << **what is this? “i’ll show you mine if you show me yours” ?**

FlyBoy83 10:50 AM >> **Obviously not, since you so rudely turned me down for that already.**

Medic67 10:51 AM << **oh sorry to make things HARD for you**

Medic67 10:52 AM << **didnt mean to be JERKING you around**

FlyBoy83 10:53 AM >> **You know I get the puns without you having to emphasize them, right?**

Medic67 10:54 AM << **No need to be a PRICK Castiel**

FlyBoy83 10:54 AM >> **(eye roll emoji)**

Medic67 10:55 AM << **how do you say your name anyways?**

Medic67 10:56 AM << **casteel?**

FlyBoy83 10:57 AM >> **No, more like Cas-tee-elle.**

Medic67 10:58 AM << **huh. well i’m gonna call you Cas**

Medic67 10:59 AM << **I’m Dean btw**

Castiel’s heart swells at the name. _Dean._ Of course that’s ‘67’s name. Masculine but somehow sweet. It’s absolutely perfect.

FlyBoy83 11:00 AM >> **Nice to meet you, Dean.**

Medic67 11:01 AM << **hey Cas**

Medic67 11:02 AM << **getting in the car to drive, so I gotta go**  

FlyBoy83 11:03 AM >> **Have a good lunch with your family.**

Medic67 11:04 AM << **thanks**

Medic67 11:04 AM << **at the risk of sounding like a clingy preteen**

Medic67 11:04 AM << **i’ll miss you**

Castiel grins at his phone, joy coursing through him. He considers ribbing ‘67, or…Dean. Just to be a prick, as his friend so aptly put it. But he doesn’t. He’s way too happy to do anything but show it.

FlyBoy83 11:05 AM >> **I’ll miss you more.**

Medic67 11:06 AM << **yeah probably**

Medic67 11:06 AM << **im amazing**

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head, and rolls out of bed to head towards his dresser. His erection has already softened a bit, but maybe they’ll get a chance to have some private time tonight. They usually do…

By the middle of the week, a package arrives on Castiel’s front stoop. On the outside there’s a return address for Dean scrawled in tiny, messy script. Inside is a hardcover book of Mary Oliver’s selected poems, Castiel’s favorite writer…a fact he’d mentioned in passing months ago but Dean somehow remembered. There’s an inscription on the title page: _From Medic67 to his Flyboy83_

***

Castiel enters the B&B early, hoping to beat his sub by half an hour. Today is a special day for a lot of reasons, some good and some bad, but Cas tries to zero in on the positives. Thanks to the email exchanges he’s been having with Billie, who instructed Pam to act as the middle man for Castiel and his sub, both men are both fully on-board with what’s about to happen tonight.

Tonight, their last night together.

Castiel chides himself silently, shaking his head and walking past the bar. He doesn’t actually know if tonight is their last night, not until this contract officially expires and Billie and Pam work their magic to initiate renegotiations. But if their last scene is any indication, his sub has real-life feelings for someone else. Strong feelings. Castiel does too, so the likelihood of them continuing if they both have boyfriends has dropped considerably. But he has to get out of his head, tonight of all nights.

FlyBoy83 6:05 PM >> **Hope you have a good day :)**

FlyBoy83 6:06 PM >> **I’ll catch up with you in a few hours, okay?**

He oddly feels guilty, knowing that he’s about to have an incredible sexual encounter while Dean probably sits at home. It feels strangely like cheating, even though they’re not monogamous, not yet, anyways.

FlyBoy83 6:07 PM >> **I hear there’s a Doctor Sexy marathon going on…**

Medic67 6:08 PM << **tempting, but I actually have plans tonight too. talk later**

Medic67 6:08 PM << **dont do anything I wouldnt do**

Castiel snorts, thinks about replying _oh, if you only knew,_ but decides against it. He powers down his phone, looking around the darkly lit club. He already knows where he wants to stage their scene, which of the open platforms he can see his gorgeous sub laid out and bare on. But he goes through the pretense of examining his surroundings anyways, appreciating the spanking benches, restraints dangling from the ceiling, and sex slings, as if all the furniture is new to him. Far from it, he thinks, rather mischievously. Both dom and sub are about to mark some major kinks off their list. Public play is just the sort of memorable scene that Cas hopes they’ll both carry with them, even if their contract does end. 

He passes time at the bar but only orders a club soda, always choosing to be totally sober during playtime. Somehow he ends up chatting with Cain, and then, that Louisiana dom he saw his sub hugging once, approaches them. After a brief introduction he learns the man’s name is Benny and he’s a previous dom of the gorgeous green-eyed man, too. Castiel feels a little territorial at first, remembering that night he had walked in and seen both of these doms eyeing his sub like a piece of meat. But with a somber sort of clarity, he realizes he’s potentially on the verge of becoming old news, too. Just another ex-dom of the most stunning sub in this club. In the whole state, honestly. Maybe he has more in common with these men than he cares to admit. 

The club is busy tonight—in one corner there’s a domme and sub decked out in black latex, the sub on his knees, begging for her to spank him. In another corner, a woman is partially nude and being flogged as she moans. The couches and chairs are filled with both play partners and observers, voyeurs rubbing their palms against their jeans or even stroking themselves out in the open. The sexual energy makes Castiel feel chock full of adrenaline, and he thrums his fingertips nervously against the bartop, checking his watch. Five minutes until go time… 

“You sharing your boy tonight?” Benny asks with a lazy grin, and Cain echoes the question, elbowing Cas in the side. 

“We’d love to give you a hand,” Cain chides, eyes full of mischief. “Or two.” 

Castiel has been slipping into his dom persona for the last few minutes, which at this point, is as comfortable and form-fitting as his favorite pair of spandex running shorts. He lowers his eyes at the doms with a dark glare.

“No, thank you,” he says levely, voice cool and distant, “though you may watch.” 

It’s that moment his sub finally enters, looking breathtakingly handsome in a tight crew neck shirt and light-wash jeans. Over email, it was agreed that they would begin playing the moment they were together in the playroom. Castiel throws his shoulders back and eyes the man openly, hungrily, the sandy-haired beauty squirming and casting his eyes down as he approaches. When he’s almost toe to toe with Castiel, he slows his step, waiting for instruction.

“Kneel,” Castiel demands, and the man swallows and gets on his knees, bumping into a woman leaned over a bar stool behind him. A few people look at him, but there are enough peculiar things going on in here that no one pays him much attention.

Yet.

“Safeword?”

“Impala,” his sub answers dutifully, and Castiel nods.

“How do you feel, seeing me with these two?” He tilts his head to either side, referencing Cain and Benny. “They’re the only other doms in this club who have seen your tight little hole, so wet and needy, stuffed full of cock…does it make you feel like the slut we know you are, seeing us together?”

His sub has always gotten off best with dirty talk, usually a mix of humiliation and praise, and he whimpers softly. “Yes, Master.”

Castiel smirks, pleased with this reaction. Even though they had indirectly discussed the parameters of this scene at length before even meeting up, after his sub’s unexpected drop a few weeks ago, Cas has been worried about him. He’s been showering him with extra panties and gifts, had even sent him a pair of thongs the same day Dean had mailed him the book of poems. Castiel flushes, wondering why Dean is in his thoughts right now when he has a gorgeous man waiting to be dominated. He has to stay focused.

“Knew my whore would like that,” Castiel says appreciatively. “Now go and strip. Did you wear a pretty pair of panties for everyone to see?”

_That blush._ It’s a stunning shade of pink, overpowering the dusting of freckles on his skin, and Castiel wants to kiss every inch of it.

“Yes, Master.”

“Well…” Castiel cuts his eyes over at the public lockers across the room. “Go on. Don’t leave me waiting.”

His sub scrambles to his feet, walking dutifully to the opposite wall and stripping in a self-conscious manner. It isn’t until he’s making his way back that Castiel sees his sub’s selection: a pair of green cotton cheekies that bring out his eyes. 

“Gorgeous,” Castiel breathes, fighting the urge to cover his sub with light and reverent touches. But he’ll save that for aftercare. “Kneel,” he instructs, then turns his attention briefly back to Cain and Benny, their eyes blown wide at the sight of the sub in a snug pair of panties and nothing else. “What do you think of my whore, gentlemen?” 

“Words can’t even describe…” Benny says vaguely. 

“I’d like to see those panties wet and dirty.” Cain palms the front of his slacks openly, getting hard at the sight of Castiel’s sub practically naked, and Cas’ inner dom purrs at the thought of possessing such a desired little toy.

“He’ll have to be very good first,” Castiel says calmly, as if it’s an objective situation that he has no control over. In a lot of ways, he doesn’t. His sub has total control here, _real_ control, just as it should be. Cas reaches his hand down roughly, making contact with his sub for the first time tonight as he thrusts the man’s chin up sharply. “Tell me, slut, would you like me to make your panties dirty while everyone in this club watches you come?” 

“P-Please,” the man moans, the outline of his half-hard cock making Castiel feel heady with lust. Still, he won’t be disrespected by his sub, especially not in front of company, and he slaps him forcefully across the face. The smack is drowned out by the music flowing from the speakers, so only the people nearby are close enough to notice. His sub withdraws and slinks down, his cheek blossoming into a beautiful shade of red.

“Please, _what_?”  

“Please, Master.”

“Better,” Castiel says stiffly, tugging at the edge of his shirt. It had been a little nippy this evening so he’s wearing long sleeves, but he’s regetting that now, already working up a nice sheen of sweat. “Should’ve made you wear a collar, so you’ll remember that tonight you’re my little bitch.”

His sub nods aggressively, seeming undeterred from that plan, and Castiel almost says _next time_ when he remembers that there might not be one.

“Follow me, slut,” he mumbles, nodding goodbye to the other doms and heading in the direction of their platform.

He leads them to the center, towards a St. Andrew’s cross, a classic piece of BDSM furniture that he’s been dreaming of strapping his sub into. The structure is metal and narrow, and he walks his sub behind the cross, turning him face first against the metal and looking out at the crowd. His sub begins eyeing his audience shyly, and Castiel’s back is to the wall, since his sub is the main attraction here. Only he has full view of his sub’s gorgeous backside. Cas begins to strap his good boy in, arms and legs spread wide. His sub has a strong exhibition kink and Castiel intends to exploit that fully, knowing his beautiful boy will be both embarrassed and delighted to be shown off so publicly. Castiel cuffs both wrists and ankles tightly, making sure the restraints are comfortable but secure, then steps back to examine his work.

His sub’s backside is on display for him, and only him, the slopes of his muscular and toned body making Cas’ mouth water. He thinks his sub is actually in better shape now than he was in March, back when they started this whole thing, and he wonders if he’s training for something. Tough Mudder? Half-marathon? Castiel will probably never know, but damn if his sub doesn’t look delicious.

He slaps the man’s ass unexpected and the sub yelps.

“Aren’t you a responsive slut, as always,” Castiel whispers with approval. “But I know you can be louder than that. What toy shall I use this evening, so all our friends can hear you moan?” He clicks his teeth together, as if he hasn’t quite decided. “Belt? Flogger? Paddle?”

His sub shifts around, the slope of his back tightening as he breathes, and Castiel reaches for the large black riding crop he stashed nearby. He squeezes the handle tightly, then runs the edge of the soft leather across his sub’s bare skin. The man shivers sensually, as if he knows what this reaction will do to his dom, and Castiel feels his cock give a twitch, half-hard in his jeans.

“Such a teasing little toy,” he mumbles, using the crop to flick curiously at his sub’s panties, admiring his perfect ass. “Let’s see how teasing you feel after this.”

He brings the crop down squarely in the center of the man’s back, and the sub moans quietly at the impact. Castiel doesn’t stop, though, bringing the crop down again and again, always in the same spot, until it’s gone through a dozen swings and the skin is inflamed. He circles the cross then, wanting to make sure his sub’s moans are more pleasure than pain. Sure enough, the man’s head is already heavy and dangling, forehead sweaty, pupils blown wide.

“My toy loves being on display, doesn’t he? Loves having all eyes on him, loves people getting off on his slutty little moans?” Castiel isn’t exaggerating—since they’ve begun he’s noticed at least three or four men stroking themselves to the sight. From the front of the cross, his sub’s hips and groin are still visible, and Cas notices how the panties have slipped to the side, revealing a fully hard and leaking cock.

“Yes, Master.”

Cas slaps his back, hard and fast and surprising, and his sub whines loudly.

“You ought to save your voice, pet. You’ll be moaning quite a lot this evening.”

Castiel delivers on his promise. He circles back around and slips the panties down to the green-eyed man’s thigh, his full and leaking cock finally on full display. Then he smacks his ass with the riding crop, one cheek ten times, the other cheek ten times, until his sub is writhing and red and panting. The sight is making Castiel feel sweaty with arousal, and he does something he rarely does with his sub.

He gets naked.

Only partially, but he drops the spanking crop long enough to shed his long-sleeved t-shirt, flat stomach fully on display. He smacks the spreading red blush of his sub’s ass, the man shuddering, and then circles him. He begins stroking his cock roughly and the sub cries out from the sudden pleasure, eyes wide as he takes in Castiel’s shirtless form, jeans slung low on his hips. Even in his blissed out state, Cas knows his sub is admiring his body, and he feels a thrill of pride that his toy lusts after him so strongly. Castiel drops his hand after just a few strokes and begins his whipping all over again, hitting the same spots until his sub is crying out with need. 

“M-Master, please…”

Castiel grips the crop with a firm grip, swirling it around in his hand. “Yes, my slutty little toy?”

“Need you,” he sub wheezes, his cock at full attention, leaking at the tip. “Master, please.”

Castiel glances at the watch on his wrist, figuring the timing is right, and drops the crop at his feet. “You take my breath away, my beautiful pet,” he muses, voice low and gravely. He faces his sub, grinning wickedly. “Shall I take away yours?”

This is one of the unexplored kinks they had discussed extensively, and even though he knows his sub has requested this, he wants to offer him the chance to withdraw if he’d like. It can be a dangerous kink if the dom isn’t careful, though Castiel is the epitome of caution. Plus, with his medical training, he knows exactly where the line is when it comes to breath play.

“P-please, Master, yes.”

From his back pocket Cas pulls out a thick ribbon with a small cluster of bells attached. What was originally a discounted cat toy will serve as a visual and audible safeword for his sub.

“Shaking this is requesting a pause, like calling out ‘yellow’ in the traditional color system. Dropping it completely is red, like using your safeword, okay? I will stop immediately,” he says slowly, though his pet’s eyelids droop as if he’s not fully paying attention, so he says more sternly, “Repeat that back to me, pet.”

“Shake is…pause… Drop is…stop.” His words come out as a long, trembling gasp, and he clutches the toy tightly. “Please, Master, please…just do it…”

Castiel slaps his red ass vigorously and his pet cries out from the sudden throb. “You do beg so pretty, so I think I’ll give you a treat,” he whispers. 

He pulls the small bottle of lube from his back pocket, lathers up his right hand, then takes his sub’s cock in hand, the slick sounds making his own dick rouse. His sub reacts perfectly, as he always does, making the naughtiest sounds and struggling against the cuffs he’s bound to. With his left hand Cas presses against the carotid artery, on the side of his sub’s sweaty neck, momentarily cutting off his air supply. Or, to be specific, Castiel thinks, cutting off oxygen to the brain. His sub gasps, eyelashes fluttering wildly, and Castiel releases him after only a few seconds. He repeats this process a few more times, jerking him off and choking simultaneously, and after barely five minutes of this, his sub is coming with a sob, painting his stomach and Castiel’s fist with come. 

All over the club, several others moan at the sight of his sub reaching orgasm, many of their own hands flying fast as they masturbate. Castiel feels a sudden surge of power, realizing he has control over practically a whole crowd of orgasms. Just like that, he needs to get off _now_ and immediately. He doesn’t stop to clean up the come, but makes his sub lick his fingers clean with desperate precision.

“Thank you, Master,” he sighs contentedly.

“You taste good, don’t you, slut? Best tasting whore I’ve ever had.”

He’s sudden inspired by this idea, and shuffles back to examine his sub’s ass. He goes to knees, parts the cheeks with both hands, then shoves his face into the crack, licking a flat tongue over the tight pink hole. 

“Ah! Master!” It’s a shout of overstimulation, but Castiel knows his sub’s limits, can tell that the sting will fade to arousal shortly. So he continues his assault, licking and sucking, drool rolling out of the corners of his mouth. “M-Master…”

He spears his tongue inside sloppily, loosening up the tight ring of muscle, imagining his cock being there instead. He hadn’t planned on fucking his sub tonight, not during public play, but at this moment nothing sounds better. He pulls away, gasping for air. 

“Wanna fuck that tight hole of yours,” he moans, taking large bites at the red and abused cheeks, and the sub jolts away from the burn of it. “Want everyone to watch me fuck you, want them to wish they were me.”

“Do it, please,” he sub begs, jutting his hips backwards in a pleading motion. “Want you to fill me up, Master.”

Castiel retrieves the lube as quickly as possible, lubing up two fingers and pressing them in with a practiced confidence. The hole is loose thanks to the rim job, but his sub still moans wantonly at the intrusion. Castiel unzips his jeans with his other hand, the denim falling to his ankles, palming himself outside his boxers. When he feels incredibly stiff, he reaches his hand around and strokes his sub’s cock, already half-hard again.

“Gonna make you come on my cock, baby,” he whispers in his ear, sucking and biting on his earlobe, half-drunk with lust. “Gonna make you shout my name.”

For a brief second, Castiel debates on telling him his name— _his real name_ —but he’s not quite so aroused that he’ll abandon all his common sense. No matter how tempting it would be to hear this stunning man shout _Castiel_ …

“Master, please, please,” his sub cries, when the pads of Cas’ fingers graze his prostrate. “Fuck me, please, please I need your cock, please fill me up, fuck me so good, please Master…”

This is Castiel’s favorite stage—the babbling. If his sub wasn’t already experiencing subspace thanks to the breath play, he certainly is now. Castiel removes his fingers and his sub whimpers and shakes in a way that’s equally arousing and endearing, and then Castiel is stripping down his boxers and lubing up his cock, pressing the head against the wet, hot muscle of his sub’s hole.

“So big, Master, so full,” he cries when Castiel bottoms out in one fluid motion. He’s never been this eager to fuck like a goddamn piston, it’s like his heart is pumping purely adrenaline, but he counts to fifty before he begins to move. He pulls out and slams in experimentally, and his sub whines and begs for more. Castiel, a merciful dom, would love _nothing_ more than to pound this man into next week. He sets a rapid pace, thrusting in and out with a recklessness he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Another time he might make his sub come on his cock alone, but at this rate, he’s due to blow his load anytime. He snakes a hand around and pumps the stiff dick into his hand, growling with pleasure as the man wails—releasing a litany of begging sobs. They come almost simultaneously, which feels rather incredible considering neither of them warned the other, but it’s almost certainly a chain reaction. On the brink of orgasm, his sub clenched his hole and cried out, the tight warm pressure made Castiel feel undone. It takes several post-orgasm minutes for them to recover, Castiel trailing the back of his neck with affectionate kisses. 

This is what it feels like to be completely sated.

Later, after they’re cleaned up and Cas is fully dressed again, he takes his pet to a private room for aftercare. He situates him face-down on a massage table, applying lotion and ointment to the reddened skin on his back and ass, before diving into a soothing rub on his neck and shoulders. His sub is humming in happy contentment by the time he carries him over to the bed, wrapping him up in a plush bedspread after he notices a trail of goosebumps. 

Castiel kisses him, because even though he’s falling fast for Dean, and even though he knows his sub isn’t his, not really and especially not after tonight, he can’t help but pretend that they’re just two lovers…wrapped in each other’s arms after amazing sex. They kiss lazily, tongues swiping at each other’s lips and mouths, kisses scattered across each other’s necks, until they’re too tired and too overcome to move. When they pull away, Castiel isn’t sure which of them is crying—maybe him, maybe his sub, maybe both—but his cheeks are undeniably wet. Eventually, he realizes what this feeling of sorrow is.

It’s the feeling of goodbye.

***

Dean feels wrecked when he wakes in the morning. It had been an emotionally and physically draining scene with his dom. He’d fucking cried during their aftercare scene, which is unsettling enough, but his dom had cried too. He wasn’t even sure who was comforting who, or why, by the end of it. Well he knew _why_ …he knew it was likely their last time together and it left him with a hole in his chest.

He showers and rubs some cream into his reddened skin, at least what he could reach. It’s times like these he wished his dom was there to put the cream on his back where he can’t reach.

It isn’t officially over with his dom, they still needed to make that call and talk to Pam or Billie about if they wanted to continue. He knew he did, he’d never felt more sexually fulfilled and wanted than when he was with his dom. The bottom line was, he couldn’t keep seeing his dom if he wanted to try things with FlyBoy, no—with Cas.

Medic67 9:02 AM >> **hey Cas, how you doin?**

Medic67 9:02 AM >> **Hope I’m not waking you up**

He feels a little bad, he’s pretty sure his friend has a night shift tonight like he does.

FlyBoy83 9:07 AM << **Hello Dean.**

FlyBoy83 9:07 AM << **No, you didn’t wake me. I’ve been up a few hours actually.**

FlyBoy83 9:08 AM << **Didn’t sleep very well. You’re up early, don’t you work tonight?**

Medic67 9:09 AM >> **I do just didn’t sleep well either, when is your shift start?**

FlyBoy83 9:10 AM << **5:00**

FlyBoy83 9:10 AM << **I’m currently attempting to make pancakes but they are coming out burnt on the edges and raw on the inside. :(**

Dean smiles, and begins to tell his friend to turn the heat down, flipping the pancake when he sees the bubbles are even. He spends his day doing chores and errands and chatting with Cas. It cheers him up knowing he isn’t alone and helps distract him from thoughts of his dom.

FlyBoy83 3:20 PM << **So, when is your first day training?**  

Medic67 3:23 PM >> **day after tomorrow**

Medic67 3:24 PM >> **hopefully all these runs with Sammy pay off**

FlyBoy83 3:27 PM << **You’re going to do amazing, I know it. :)**

Medic67 3:30 PM >> **yeah I’ll Rocky this shit, even got my grey sweats ready to go ;)**

FlyBoy83 3:33 PM << **I am sure it will be movie montage worthy performance.**

Dean rolls his eyes, tucking his phone away.

“Little help?” He turns to see Sam walking in, arms full of groceries. He moves quickly to grab some and scowls at the high percentage of vegetables.

“Where’s the pie?”

Sam turns his classic bitch face on him before moving to put things away. “Pie is not on-diet, man.”

“Well, fuck…come on. I have the class this week and I need pie to celebrate the end of this stupid diet thing,” he grumbles, putting away the cereal and snacks. Sam keeps darting nervous glances at him as they put the food away, and Dean just waits him out till his little brother figures out what he wants to say.

“So, I was thinking I’d bring my girlfriend by tomorrow morning for breakfast, you know, after your shift.” Sam has his back to him when he says it.

“Finally introducing me, huh?” 

Sam turns, grinning a little. “You could say that, I guess. So what about you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you going to make a move on one of your guys?”

Dean sighs, rubbing his face, “I uh, think so, yeah. He told me his name, you know. It’s Castiel.”

“Is this the online guy, or the dude you keep sneaking off to see?” Sam smirks, flopping down in a chair at the kitchen table.

“It’s my online friend, the other medic. I wanna meet him in person. But I….” Dean trails off, not sure how to voice the sadness he feels at losing his dom.

“But you…?” Sam prompts.

“Nothing. I’m gonna get my shit squared away and then ask him on a real date.”

“Can you imagine if we both end up falling for people at the same time? Won’t be the bachelor Winchesters anymore,” Sam says, and there’s a mix of excitement and sadness to his tone.

“Falling in love, huh Samsquatch?” Dean grins, kinda secretly loving the idea of his brother being that happy.

“I think so, yeah…I mean, I’ve loved her, but now it’s…now I’m in love with her, I think,” Sam responds sheepishly, and Dean has to pick his jaw up off the floor.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, because Dean Winchester does not handle this amount emotion well. “I can’t wait to meet her. Gonna have to warn her not to feed you burritos though.”

Sam scowls, tossing a crumpled napkin at him as he ducks and laughs, running for his room. He seriously hopes things with this girl work for his little bro, and that she’s someone Dean can get along with.  

He heads to his room to put on his uniform before he ends up running late. His pants alone weigh a ton, and he does his check to be sure he has his flashlight, knife, trauma shears, all with him before bolting out the door. He feels hot already in his clothes, and is kinda glad the sun is going down soon and things will be cooling off in a few hours. Jo is in the back of the truck checking stock when he gets there. His phone pings with an email and he ducks out her line of sight before checking it.

**\------------------------------------------**

**Subject:** Contract Renewal?

**<** PBarnes@B&BClub.com >

**To:** ImpalaIsMyBaby@gmail.com

Tue, July 30, 5:04 PM

Hey Sugar,

So it’s time to have “the talk” about whether you wanna pursue another contract with your dom. Billie and I have talked and we wanna be sure you two are alright with whatever decision you come to. Would you be open to meeting here at the club? We can schedule it on Friday night if you’re free, just let me know and I can have Billie reach out to your dom.

All the best handsome,

Pam

**\------------------------------------------**

He reads the email over and starts pacing in a small circle. The thought of looking in his dom’s eyes and telling him no, telling him he doesn’t want to see him anymore, turns his stomach to ice. How can he do that? How can he look into those caring, dominating, electric blue eyes and deny that man anything?

“You okay, Winchester?” Jo asks hopping out of the truck.

“Uh yeah, I just…I mean, yeah, I’m good,” he mumbles, still looking at his phone.

“Sure…real convincing. You wanna try that again with feeling?” she quirks a smile at him, and it’s more open than teasing.

“I think I need to break things off with my...my friend with benefits. I just don’t know how to do that without being a total dick about it.”

Jo looks thoughtful a moment. “You finally making a move on that online bestie of yours?”

“Uh yeah, actually. I think we’re gonna meet soon, but I just can’t go into that with Cas until I know things with my other friend are over. Does that make sense?” 

“Cas? He told you his name! Is his full name Cassidy?”

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes as he leans against the truck. “It’s Castiel, which is apparently the name of an angel I guess.” He’d googled the name quickly when Cas had told him the name, and didn’t find any social media accounts, but did find a wikipedia page on an angel with the same name. Kinda poetic that a flight medic is named after an angel, seems meant to be. And Dean doesn’t even believe in that destiny shit.

“Okay, so you wanna make a clean break from your fuck buddy before taking the leap with your online guy? Sounds like you just have to bite the bullet, man. I mean, this friends-with-benefits guy can’t be _that_ good a lay.”

_If you only fucking knew_ , Dean thinks, groaning as he puts his head in his hands. “It isn’t that easy, Jo, okay? Maybe I should just send a message and be done with it.” 

Jo proceeds to smack him in the arm, making him jump. “Don’t be a goddamn coward, Dean. Tell the guy to his face that you’re done. I'm sure he will understand your reasons, and if he doesn’t, that’s not on you…that’s on him, okay? You can’t let anyone get in the way of being with the right person.”

“But how do I know Cas is the right person?”

“Trust your gut, man. You’re making the right call.” Jo smiles at him and he nods, typing out a quick reply to Pam that he wants to meet on Friday. He feels a mingled mix of dread and anticipation. Dread of seeing his dom and saying goodbye, and anticipation for finally meeting Castiel face to face.

The night is a slow one, and he and Jo hang out in the garage bay, talking about the latest _Dr. Sexy_ episode and showing each other funny animal memes. He messages with Cas on occasion, who also seems to be having a slow night. Right as the dread word “quiet” enters his mind, the speaker calls that they have a run: multi car pile up on Rte. 3 southbound.

Jo jumps in the driver’s seat and Dean hops in beside her as they head to the highway. He shoots a message to Cas quickly, before they get there.

Medic67 6:57 PM >> **Pile up on 3, better get your wings ready**

FlyBoy83 6:58 PM << **Just heard, we’re on stand by. Stay safe.**

Medic67 3:30 PM >> **always**

He pockets his phone and listens to the information coming in from dispatch. He gets a little thrill at the idea that he might see Castiel tonight. They don’t call for medflight that often, and the few times they had in the past few months Cas wasn’t working. Even if he had been there, they usually move so fast, grabbing the patient and getting them in the air as soon as possible. Dean could have missed him. If the ground medics call in medflight then time is of the essence, and the patient has to be ready for them to take quickly. The thought that they might have seen each other without knowing makes his stomach flip a little. He doesn’t really want the first time they meet to be on a scene, he wants to have time to focus all his attention on Cas without any distractions, but still…he could be there.

Dean feels the adrenaline surge the second they reach the scene and he takes in the accident. Jo parks in front of the fire truck and he grabs his first-in bag, moving to the closest crunched Acura tilted in a ditch. He sees the driver still stuck in her seat but the driver's side door is crumpled in on itself.

Dean climbs in the passenger side, glad that the door was already ripped off on that side and not blocking his way. He checks, and both airbags have fully deployed, which is one less thing to worry about. “Hi, I’m Dean. I’m a paramedic. Can you tell me your name and what hurts?”

The woman blinks a few times but manages to lock eyes with him, “A-Amber. M-m-my arm hurts and my chest.”

“Hi Amber, I’m gonna take good care of you. Can you tell me what happened?” He proceeds to take the woman’s vitals and look for any excessive bleeding while the woman describes the crash to him. She is thankfully fairly with it, so he isn’t terribly concerned with a head trauma. Her arm is another story, and he quickly applies an Israeli bandage to try and slow the bleeding. He can see the fire fighters moving around the vehicle now and start to work on pulling the roof out of the way. Jo stays close by, handing him supplies as he needs them, while he tries to keep his patient calm.

He keeps track of her blood pressure, which is lower than he would like. He gives her a fluid bolus and once her pressure improves he gives her some fentanyl to help ease the pain. The team moves quickly, and soon Dean can see the night sky above him, one step closer to getting his patient out. It’s then that he looks up to see medflight landing, two medics jumping out as they make for one of the other overturned vehicles, ready to take the patient from the medics on the ground. It’s just a glance, barely longer than a heartbeat as he looks harder and sees a familiar square jaw and deep commanding eyes. He’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating, because there is no way in hell that medic is also…his dom.

“Come on, Castiel!” he hears the other flight medic, a woman, yell at him. 

Castiel.

Flight medic Castiel.

Flyboy.

….his dom.

He can’t begin to process this. He stares blankly at the retreating form of his best friend, his colleague, and his—goddamn Master! Castiel is one and the same, and Dean watches as he boards the helicopter and lifts off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Public play, Breath play, Medical trauma, Cliffhangers that make readers riot 
> 
> Ten more days until the Fic Facers auction ends! Bid on us [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/?fbclid=IwAR2FrMME7OoM4uElG53KpsvBQ5IxLUfWSfhnLlUf8JpxVjNZF3on19ARjF8).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TCBaby: Hey CB...
> 
> CB: Yeah TCBaby?
> 
> TCBaby: You know what’s amazing?
> 
> CB: Our readers?
> 
> TCBaby: DUDE I WAS GONNA SAY THAT! HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS GONNA SAY THAT!
> 
> CB: Cause I’m psychic like that, just call me Pam. Also we’re basically the same person at this point
> 
> TCBaby: Yep. At this point we’re like, “Sam and Dean at the diner in Mystery Spot speaking at the same time” sort of level.
> 
> CB: What does Sam do with that ruler by his bed?
> 
> TCBaby: Fair question. Is he measuring his hair or—penis? ...we may never know.
> 
> TCBaby: Okay, but really guys, thank you so much for the love you’ve shown this story!
> 
> CB: It makes our hearts warmer then Dean's red ass.
> 
> TCBaby: Could not have said it better myself.
> 
> CB: Which is why we worked so hard to write this chapter for you guys.
> 
> TCBaby: Exactly. CB and I ignored most real life people and responsibilities this week in order to get this chapter out on time, and we did it all for YOU and your incredible enthusiasm. We are seriously blown away.
> 
> CB: So sit back, find a comfy spot, and enjoy!

“Dean...Dean!” 

He blinks and looks over at Jo’s perturbed face. “What’s up with you, Winchester? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Fuck, it feels like it. Dean tries to wave her off like a buzzing fly, but she only moves closer, crowding him against the back of the truck.

“Ease up, Harvelle,” he grumbles.

“You’ve barely said two words since we got done with that call. Did…did something trigger you?” she asks in a low voice.

“I’m fine Jo, I just need to think.” He pushes past her, and all but jogs to his bunk room. His mind is spinning out of control. He had to shut down all those racing thoughts, focus on the task at hand, focus on his patient. The second he signed her over to the ER crew, though, they all came flooding back to him. 

His dom, standing there in a full jumpsuit in the middle of all the chaos. The way he moved, such sure, long determined strides. He’d know that gait anywhere, that face—all sharp lines lit up by the emergency lights. It was him…Castiel.

How could he not have known? How could Cas not have known? _Does_ Cas know? Is this all just some giant long con? For all his dom’s talk of privacy and boundaries, was he stalking Dean all this time? Fucking him one night, and then talking with him as FlyBoy the next? Was this all just a joke to him?

No, not his friend—FlyBoy wouldn’t do that to him. They’ve been friends for almost a year, he tells FlyBoy everything…well, almost everything. He doesn’t tell him that sometimes he likes to wear a collar and have his dom tell him what a good little bitch he is. He’ll never have to, ‘cause apparently, Cas already knows. He knows everything about Dean, about his family, his job, his favorite movies, his love of puns and all his crazy kinks. It’s too much to handle…he feels exposed, and maybe even betrayed.

He paces the small room, feeling the bile trying to rise up in his throat. He’s exhausted and wired and more confused than he can ever remember being. This just can’t be right, it has to be a mistake, a trick of the eyes. There is no way the hot sexy man that dominates him, bending him to his every will, is the same man who researches honey bee migrations and burns just about everything he tries to bake. It just doesn’t add up. 

His phone vibrates where he tossed it on the bed, though he’s unaware of having done that. He stares at it like it might jump up and bite him. When it doesn’t move again, he flips the phone right side up to see the red notification dot on his Signal app. The one person he wants to talk to about all this is the one he _can’t_ talk to about all this.

FlyBoy83 8:35 PM << **Crazy scene. Hope your patient was okay.**

FlyBoy83 8:36 PM << **Were you there when we landed?**

Dean mutes the phone, stuffing it in his pocket as the intercom goes off for another run. They take back-to-back calls all night and Dean is glad for the distraction. Jo eyes him warily but doesn’t push him. She probably thinks he’s upset by the call or something, and she isn’t completely wrong. By some miracle he gets to the end of his shift, and all he wants to do is go crawl into his bed until he’s awake enough to make any sense of his night. 

“Bring me home, Baby,” he says, patting the dash of his car as he makes the short drive home. He didn’t wait to say goodbye to Jo, just ducked out as soon as his relief showed up. Sometimes he thinks his car drives itself home, because suddenly he’s pulling up to the apartment building. He climbs the stairs and hears shuffling and banging as he enters his apartment. He is in no mood to deal with his brother right now and tries to sneak off to his room.

“Dean? Hey, you’re back. I made breakfast.” Sam smiles, popping his head around the corner.

“Not hungry,” he grunts, pulling off his boots.

“Please, just stay and eat for a few minutes, my uh, my girlfriend is coming over.” Sam mutters the last part.

“What?” Dean turns now, looking at Sam and taking him in. Apron tiny on his large frame, hair perfectly dried and fluffed.

“I mentioned it yesterday. Remember? She’s gonna be here any minute, can you stay and just…be nice?” Sam looks pleading now. “I’ve got bacon, and waffles, and fruit.”

“Dude, not today. I just got off an overnight, I’m fried, okay?” He feels bad, knowing Sam warned him about this yesterday. Any other time—literally any other time—he would be game to finally meet this girl. But he doesn’t think he can fit anything else in his head right now.

“She won’t care, believe me, she won’t. Just like ten minutes say hello, eat some bacon, and then you can sleep the rest of the day.”

“No, Sam.”

“Don’t be a jerk, come on.” Sam scowls at him, obviously not going to let up. Before Dean can answer with a more emphatic no, there is a knock at the door.

Sam looks at him expectantly, and Dean sighs, dropping his bag and gesturing him on. He can’t believe he has to deal with this right now after the night he’s had. He still feels like his phone is burning a hole in his pocket. Sam bounces in place a second before opening the door, and Dean catches a flash of blonde hair.

“Hey guys.” Jo steps in the room standing awkwardly in front of Sam.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gee, real polite partner.” Jo rolls her eyes. She’s grinning but looks a little worried. That’s when she leans into Sam’s side to look up at him. Dean watches the way they look at each other, eyes searching the other’s face. Sam bends his head down and kisses her lightly on the lips.

“Morning,” Sam says softly to her.

“Holy fuck!” Dean looks at them and tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Look, we didn’t want to say anything, not until we were sure there was something real here.” Sam puts his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in.

“We want you to be okay with this Dean, you’re important to both of us,” Jo adds, looking at him with concern. Seeing as she had witnessed his mood last night, he can’t blame her. 

“Dean, you okay?” Sam looks more worried now. _Is_ he okay? 

No, he’s not okay, there is way too much changing and he hasn’t slept in nearly thirty-six hours and he just needs some time to process. He walks to the kitchen, snatching up the plate of fresh bacon. “Dean?”

 “I’m taking the bacon,” he grunts, stuffing a piece into his mouth. Before they can respond he takes his tired self to his room, locking the door behind him. He strips out of his clothes, crawling into his bed with the plate of bacon. He pulls his phone to his chest and takes a breath before opening the Signal app.

FlyBoy83 7:39 AM << **Hope everything is okay.**

Dean sighs, stuffing more bacon in his mouth. He can’t completely avoid him. He needs time to think and work through all this, but he can’t just ghost Cas. He types out a quick reply.  

Medic67 7:48 AM >> **Just getting some sleep**

FlyBoy83 7:49 AM << **Get some rest. Talk to you soon :)**

He sighs, tucking the phone under his pillow. He’s dying to talk to him, to find out if he’s right, if it’s _really_ him. What would that mean for them? Would Castiel still want him? 

He wishes he was curled up with his dom right now. He wraps the blanket around himself in a tight cocoon, letting the warm press of it soothe him, hoping he can make some sense of things with a little bit of sleep.

He wakes some time later, the low afternoon light streaming in the room and a piece of bacon stuck to his cheek. He fumbles with the blankets, getting tangled and falling to the floor with a loud thump. 

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles, fighting with the blankets from hell.

“Dean? You okay in there?” Sam calls through the door.

Finally disentangled, he gets up and presses fingers to the bridge of his nose, fighting off a headache. He shuffles to the door, opening it and squinting at the sour expression on his brother’s face.

“Perfectly fine, thanks for the concern,” he answers, waiting for Sam to move so he can get to the bathroom. Instead, there is a brick wall of Sasquatch in his way.

“What’s going on, Dean? You’re being kind of a dick.” Sam crosses his arms in that “we need to talk” kind of stance Dean absolutely loathes. “You know, Jo thinks you’re upset about us with the way you walked off.”

“I did warn you I was in no mood to meet your girlfriend, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to find out it’s my partner—who is basically like a little sister to us.” Dean thinks he has every right to be a bit pissed right about now. “How could you keep something like that from me, man?” 

“I told you we just didn’t want to tell anyone ‘till we knew it was serious. There’s always been something between us, but we were always with other people or busy with school, and now... I dunno, it just seemed like it was worth a shot, you know? She makes me happy, Dean.” Sam smiles now, a bit of a goofy grin. Fuck, if that doesn’t stop Dean’s growing anger right in its tracks. Who the hell is he to judge Sam for keeping a secret? He is the king of motherfucking secrets. 

“Alright Sammy, I’m happy for you, okay? Just let me be there when you two tell Ellen. I need to make sure I got my popcorn ready.”

“Very funny, Dean. I’m sure Ellen will be happy for us.” Sam nods with confidence that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But what the hell is up with you? I know this isn’t all about me and Jo. Spill.”

“None of your business.” Dean tries to push past his brother, but Sam puts up an arm to block his path. Normally a quick shot to the gut would get him out of Dean’s way, but he can’t muster the energy to move his stubborn not-so-little brother. 

“Is this about your friend online? Or are you worried about this other guy you’ve been seeing?”

Dean rubs at his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. “It’s…kinda the same problem…they aren’t a _they_ , they’re a him.”

“Dude, you're making no sense.” Sam half chuckles. 

“Fuck you, I’m running on like four hours sleep,” Dean grumbles. “Castiel and my…uh, friends with benefits. I found out last night that they’re the same person. Castiel is the guy I’ve been fucking around with, but we never used names so I didn’t know. But I saw him on a call last night and it’s…him. He’s both guys.” Dean can almost feel a small weight lifting as the words leave him.

“You’re shitting me?” Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “No fucking way…that’s amazing!”

Dean scowls at him. “How do you figure that?”

“Come on. You’ve been stressing out, talking about having to break up with your fuck buddy, and now you don’t have to. Isn’t that good news?” Sam looks at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“I don’t think you get how big a fucking deal this is. What if Castiel knew? What if he’s known all along!” Even as Dean says the words, though, they don’t ring true.

“Do you really think he’d do that?” Sam asks, quieter now. 

“No, I dunno, maybe… It doesn’t really sound like him.”

“Have you talked to him?” 

“No, of course not! What do I even say?”

Sam eyes him a moment. “What are you so scared of Dean? Really?” 

“They are the same person, Sam. If I fuck this up, I don’t just lose a best friend I lose my—” He stops himself before the word “dom” slips out of him. “I could lose both of them, don’t you get it? There is no fall back. It’s like, twice the pressure on the table.”

Sam grips Dean’s shoulders now, staring him square in the face. “Dean, you’re my brother, and I love you. But you can be the biggest idiot I have ever known. Maybe you should stop worrying so much and take a fucking chance and talk to the guy. Face to face, using real names. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, he could find out Cas was conning him the whole time. Cas could think Dean was conning him. Cas could meet the real Dean, the whole package, and not want him.... Once he knows Dean is his sub, he might not want to date him anymore. Sure, he liked the strong confident medic he became friends with, the one who has at least some of his shit together. But he may not want a real relationship with a needy cockslut that’s never dated anyone longer than two months. Cas could walk away.

“Hey, get out of your head man.” Sam grips him a little harder until Dean focuses.

“I just need time to process, okay Sammy? Plus I have my tactical course starting tomorrow and I really need to focus on that.” He knows it’s a cop out, but he just can’t deal with this possibly life altering reality right now.

“Fine, but you need to deal with this, okay? And you can’t chicken-shit out. I told you about Jo, now it’s time for you to go figure your shit out.” Sam releases him, stepping to the side. 

“I promise, alright? I’ll talk to him…just not right this minute.” This seems to appease Sam, who leaves him to trudge to the bathroom. One way or another he is going to have to deal with this Castiel situation, but he is not going to have to deal with any of it until he’s taken a nice long shower to rinse the night away.

***

Castiel stands in front of his pantry, frowning at the meager offerings stacked on the shelves. Box of pasta, cans of beans, baking supplies…he has no food, officially. Two days ago he would’ve fired off a message to Dean, would’ve asked him for last-minute dinner recipe ideas. More than likely Dean would have teased him about his not-so-legendary cooking skills, and the teasing would have turned to flirting, and the flirting would’ve ended with Cas dirty talking them both to completion. But now…

Now, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever hear from his friend again.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Something’s wrong with Dean, and the only thing Castiel can figure is that his friend saw something horrific at the scene, the pile up they were both called in for. But Cas had been there, and while there were some significantly injured drivers and passengers they were tasked with treating, nothing about it was unusual. Certainly none of it warranted Dean’s sudden distance from Cas. He’s never felt quite so rejected by someone he isn’t even technically dating. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Castiel mumbles to himself. “It’s been two days. That’s all. Don’t freak out after two days.” His quiet, stagnant kitchen doesn’t offer a reply, and chuckles to himself darkly. “And now I’m talking to myself. _Great_.”

He closes the pantry door with a sigh. He pulls out his cell phone, frowning when he notices no reply from his latest Signal message to Dean, _of course not._ He’s just about the pull up an app and order a pizza—Dean’s not paying close enough attention to him to scold him for cheating on their diet—when a call comes through on his screen.

“Huh,” he says, surprised by the name on the caller ID, but answering all the same. He swipes his thumb across the bar and mumbles, “Hi, Hannah.”

“Hey, Cas,” she responds casually, as if they talk on the phone everyday. Though that’s certainly not the case, they _are_ friends—after the trip to the farmer’s market a few months ago, they’ve spent time doing a few group activities, and even went to see a movie together once. Castiel isn’t quite sure if she’s gotten over her crush, but he hopes so, because he enjoys her company very much.

“Whatcha up to?”

“I, well…” Castiel blinks blearily around his kitchen. “Truthfully, I was about to have a pity party, which includes ordering myself a pizza.”

“Hmm, want some company?” He pauses long enough, clearly on the fence about bringing anyone down with his misery, that Hannah continues. “C’mon, I’ll bring the pizza, you bring the pity, we’ll have a great party.”

Castiel laughs, the sound releasing some of the bent-up anxiety knotted in his chest. “That sounds great, Hannah, thanks.”

A few minutes later he’s settled onto his couch, waiting for her arrival. He keeps refreshing his Signal app and his email inbox in irritating intervals, still pondering Dean’s absence as well as his sub’s lack of response about their upcoming meeting at the B&B. Both Pam and Billie have told him now, through email and phone calls, that his gorgeous green-eyed sub hasn’t responded yet to the offer of a meeting. Maybe the email got sent to his spam, Castiel thinks lamely, shaking his head at how unlikely that is. No, his sub is probably just trying to let him down easily…just like Dean is. 

Eventually there’s a knock on his apartment door, startling him out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He removes the deadbolt and slides the door open, Hannah sporting a fresh uniform and holding a large pizza box.

“Oh, Cas.” She frowns at him sympathetically, cracking open the pizza box, the steam of the pie wafting its way inside his walkway. “Judging from the look on your face…I think you’ve earned this.”

A half-hour later, they’re sitting crossed-legged on Castiel’s couch, paper plates filled with stray crumbles and leftover pizza crust. Cas offers to grab Hannah a beer, forgetting that she’s starting the evening shift soon, and she rightfully declines. He decides to drink enough for both of them, halfway through his second beer when she finally says, “Okay, so…fess up.”

“What?” he asks innocently, and she narrows her eyes. 

“Nope, no playing dumb. What’s up, Cas? Why are you comforting yourself with greasy carbs and checking your phone every twenty seconds?”

Castiel looks up guilty, his cell phone sliding out his hand. He locks the screen. “Sorry. I just…I’ve been waiting to hear back from a few people, and I guess they’re too busy.”

“People,” Hannah repeats blankly. “Does ‘people’ mean the person you’ve been seeing? The whole ‘it’s complicated’ situation?”

Castiel groans. “Am I that transparent?”

“No, I’m just _that_ smart,” she says, grinning. “Besides, that’s the only thing that could worry someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” 

“Y’know…calm, cool, collected.”

Castiel closes his eyes, feeling suddenly tired from the two beers. He doesn’t have the time or energy to explain to Hannah how much that’s just a surface level interpretation of him, how there are so many other layers few people get to see. Mostly, people tend to think that confident, dominating personalities like Castiel have no insecurities…but, at least in Cas’ experience, it’s quite the opposite. Since he was a child he’s felt different—too straightforward for most social situations, too involved in his own world to get jokes or pop culture references. His polished demeanor doesn’t come naturally to Cas…in some ways, it’s a carefully crafted persona. Only his brother and Dean have truly seen below the surface.

He can’t relay all this to Hannah, though, so he mutters, “I think I might be getting ghosted.”

To his surprise, his coworker laughs. “I’m surprised you even know that word, Cas. Weren’t you like, three years behind the ‘yolo’ trend?”

Castiel scowls and takes a long sip of his beer. Hannah seems to realize he’s not really in the mood for teasing, because she says, “Sorry, not important. Tell me about the…”

She’s waiting for him to fill in the blank, so Castiel mutters, “Guy. Guys? I don’t even know anymore. It’s a mess.”  

Her interest is obviously piqued, and after some goading, Castiel tells her a PG-13 version of his current situation—his “fuck buddy,” aka sub, versus his online best friend, Dean.  

“Wow. And this has been going on for months?” Hannah’s eyes are wide. “That’s insane.”

“Indeed.” Castiel’s beer is empty, and he rotates the bottle around unhappily. In a few stunted sentences, he explains how he fell for them both in different ways, but in the end, he thought he could have a real future with Dean…Dean, who’s unexpectedly been ignoring him for days. In hindsight, he realizes now that these last few months, sharing his everyday life with Dean and indulging in his sexual fantasies with his sub, have been the happiest of his life.  

Both men have given him way too much to miss.

“Maybe something happened. Maybe Dean’s sick,” Hannah says reasonably.

“Maybe.” Castiel feels pathetic, really, but he has a concern and he has to voice it to someone. “Maybe he saw me that night—that pile up, remember? Maybe he saw me out on that call, but he wasn’t attracted to me. Maybe he can do better.”

Hannah scoffs, her expression outrageously shocked. “If you’re fishing for compliments, then fine,” she muses. “Castiel, you are incredibly attractive. If Dean has even one gay bone in his body, he’d be into you in a second.”

Dean has much more than one gay bone, Castiel thinks with some satisfaction, remembering all the times they’ve traded dirty messages back and forth. But perhaps that’s in the past now…

“Seriously. Anna, Inias, Balthazar, pretty sure everybody at work has a crush on you. Even me.” Hannah’s head tilts and she offers him a small, though slightly awkward, smile. 

“Hannah—”

“It’s okay, Cas, I know we’re better as friends. But for the record, no one was interested in you purely for your looks, okay? We’re into you because you’re a great guy. It sounds like Dean knows you really well, and loves everything about you. You could probably be really happy together…if he’ll pull his head out of his ass.” 

“Perhaps.” Castiel chuckles quietly, the weight on his shoulders feeling less heavy with every passing moment. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Maybe it’s time for a grand gesture. That’s what the supporting role always says in a rom-com, anyways. Right?” She grins, then checks her watch and the casual expression fades. She stands up and stretches. “Time to go. Can’t believe I have boot camp tomorrow…after a night shift, and after eating three slices of pizza. Jeez. Mark both of those down in the ‘bad idea’ column.”

“I’ll make a note,” Castiel murmurs wryly. His head is still buzzing with all the possible ways he could win Dean over again, or at the very least, could help his best friend out of his funk.

Like most things, though, the solution hits him squarely in the face when he’s least expecting it. 

“You’re going to the tactical course tomorrow?” he asks in a rush.

“The SWAT boot camp? Of course. I’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

Castiel flushes guiltily, resolved to be a more attentive friend once his love life is finally under control. 

“Why?” she asks curiously.

“Because…” Castiel swallows, thinking this might be the most nerve-racking thing he’s ever decided to do, but he has to try. It’s _Dean_. “I think it’s time for a grand gesture.”

***

Dean shifts in his seat again, staring at the phone face down on the table top. He can practically feel the itch under his skin, making him want to grab it and look at his Signal app again. He’s managed to focus on his instructor, though, for most of the morning. Taking notes here and there, and waiting to get to the good part. It’s all mostly safety procedures so far. Day one of the tactical medic course is classroom-based, but tomorrow they get to go outside and have hands-on training. He’s most excited for, and nervous about, day three…where they really test them with different mass casualty scenarios.

Dean feels like he needs to put his all into this, or he’d be letting FlyBoy down. Well, letting _Cas_ down, after all—he supported through his training. Making Cas proud is the only thing keeping him on task in this class.

He hasn’t messaged him in nearly two days. It’s the longest he can remember them not talking. It feels like an ache in chest, but every time he’s gone to type out a reply, he can’t for the life of him think of what to say. Nothing seems right and he just ends up panicking and writing nothing. Now he feels like it’s been so long since he came up with a reply that Cas is bound to be upset. The last thing he wants to do is fuck things up with the most important person in his life, and it’s paralyzing him.

He spins the phone as the instructor moves on to talk about statistics, and he struggles to focus. He has to get through the course, then he can figure out what to do about him and Cas. It terrifies him—the thought of talking to Cas, the thought him not wanting Dean and how much that makes him want to throw up. Cas means everything to Dean, and fuck if he knows what to do about that. 

“Alright, we’ll take a quick break for lunch, meet back here in thirty minutes,” the instructor calls. Dean breathes a sigh of relief, snatching up the phone from the table and looking at the app. No new messages from Cas, but then again, Dean had never replied to his ones from two days ago. Maybe Cas already forgot all about him. He quickly closes the app and looks at his email. Pam has sent another email, asking if he wants to talk or needs help deciding on if he wants to continue his contract or find a new dom. Just the mention of a new dom makes him cringe. There’s only one man Dean will ever sub for again, and he hopes to hell he still wants him.

“Dean!... Dean!... Dean!” 

He hears a female voice calling, and looks up to see a brunette standing by the front of the room calling his name.

“Uh, that’s me,” he responds when no one else seems to pipe up.

She smiles broadly at him before marching over to him. “Are you Dean Winchester?” 

He hesitates a moment before responding with a small nod of the head. “I heard someone outside was looking for you.” 

That seems strange…he doesn’t know anyone else in the class. He worries maybe it’s Sam, but why on earth would he come to his training? Whoever it is can’t be that important, maybe just another medic recognized his name and wanted to chat. “Yeah, okay, thanks. I’ll go check. I gotta hit the head first.” He smiles and nods at her before heading to the bathroom, fairly certain she was checking his ass on the way out.

***

Castiel paces around the empty school yard. All morning long, he had fretted over everything—his hair, his clothes, even his teeth. He hasn’t primped and preened like this in years, not since he’s been on a proper date, and his heart swells at the thought of asking Dean out today, looking into his eyes and asking him to grab coffee after boot camp—

Castiel shakes his head, trying to stay focused. Today is just about meeting Dean, trying to figure out if things are okay between them. Of course, there’s also the Zeppelin record tucked away in a bag, a “good luck with boot camp” gift that Castiel snagged for Dean this morning at a local music shop. He feels immensely silly now, standing around waiting, holding a present for a person who’s been MIA for the past few days. _Maybe he has a good reason…_

Castiel can only hope.

The first day of the three-day SWAT medic course is textbook-based, and if Hannah’s texts are any indication, the morning class had been less than riveting. Cas imagines that Dean has been equally bored, and though he still can’t picture what his friend looks like, he’s likely adorable, all bleary-eyed, yawning as he tries to focus.

Any second now, Castiel _will_ know what Dean looks like. That thought is just as terrifying as it is thrilling, and he shivers, even in the heat. He’s glad he decided on a standard outfit—jeans and t-shirt, though the shirt is form-fitting and makes his biceps stand out more than usual. He’s wearing his favorite boots too, the ones that he had considered his “dom boots” until the night he’d drunk texted Dean, and his friend had admitted to finding the boots sexy. 

Perhaps Castiel is trying to entice Dean into liking him—what’s wrong with that? After the week he’s had, he needs all the luck he can get. 

He pulls up his text messages, unable to stop himself from sending Hannah another text.

Castiel 12:04 PM >> **Have you seen him yet?**

Castiel 12:05 PM >> **Did you give him the message?**

Hannah 12:06 PM << **Don’t you want to ask what you’re really thinking?**  

Castiel 12:06 PM >> **Which is…?**

Hannah 12:06 PM << **If he’s hot.**

Castiel laughs nervously, eyes still glued to the front door.  

Castiel 12:07 PM >> **I honestly don’t care either way.**

Hannah 12:08 PM << **Well, for the record, he is. Like, VERY hot.**  

Castiel swallows, his feet stumbling over each other as he paces. 

Castiel 12:09 PM >> **And you sent him outside, right?**

Hannah 12:10 PM << **(eye roll emoji)**

Hannah 12:11 PM << **Yes, Castiel, just breathe.**

Castiel 12:12 PM >> **What did you say exactly?**

Hannah 12:13 PM << **I said, “hey, my friend Cas is waiting outside and he’s hoping for the chance to see you naked.”**

Castiel 12:14 PM >> **Hannah, I swear to god…**

Hannah 12:15 PM << **You’re no fun, wound-up like this.**

Hannah 12:15 PM << **I called his name until someone answered. Then I told him I heard someone was waiting for him outside. That’s it. He said something like “I gotta hit the head first” which is a charming way of saying he’s going to the bathroom, then he’ll be outside.**  

Castiel snorts, shaking his head at the message, his palms sweating.

Castiel 12:16 PM >> **That sounds like him. :)**

Castiel 12:17 PM >> **Hannah, what if…**

He pauses, frowning at the phone, trying to explain his current stream of anxious thoughts. 

Hannah 12:19 PM << **Don’t worry, okay? It’s gonna be great.**

Hannah 12:20 PM << **Just saw him headed in your direction.**

Hannah 12:20 PM << **Deep breaths.**

“Oh god,” Castiel mumbles, heart thumping like a jackhammer in his chest. He slips his cell phone into his back pocket, wanting his hands free for some reason. What are they supposed to do…handshake? Hug?  

“Fuck,” he mutters, wiping his sweaty palms against his denim-covered thighs. The door opens and Castiel practically faints at the sight, but it’s just a small redhead woman talking on her cellphone. He decides then to face away from the door, knowing he’ll startle anyone else coming through if he’s just staring intently every time the door opens. Hannah had told him that they only have a thirty minute lunch break, and Dean had wasted ten minutes in the bathroom, so whatever sort of conversation they’re about to have will need to be brief. 

He hears the door open again, the hinges creaking slowly as it closes, and he takes a deep breath to steady his rapid heart rate. It’s now or never.

He spins on his heels, clutching the gift bag in his left hand like a lifeline, and comes face to face with…

It can’t be.

His mind halts, movements frozen, eyebrows raised and mouth agape.

Standing in front of him is _his sub_ —the sandy hair green-eyed man, the star of his every daydream, a man he wasn’t quite sure he would ever see again. 

“It’s…you,” he whispers, eyes wide. His old sub looks an equal combination of nervous and terrified, but for some reason, he doesn’t look that surprised.  

“I didn’t know you were a medic,” Castiel blurts out, saying the first thing that comes to mind during this very awkward situation.

“You didn’t?” He sub _does_ look surprised at that, if only slightly, which is strange. But Castiel is too distracted, unable to stop himself from checking past the man’s shoulder, staring at the closed door. Is Dean still on the way? What will he think when he finds Castiel chatting with a man this attractive? Will he get jealous? Or will he tell Cas he’s decided they’re better off as friends, and that’s why he’s been avoiding him? 

“I…I’m sorry. I’m actually looking for someone,” Castiel admits, with some embarrassment. He never thought he’d run into his beautifully handsome sub in public, but of course, it had to be when he’s waiting for another man to arrive. Not to mention that “beautifully handsome” hardly begins to cover it…Castiel has never seen the man in the daytime, never outside of a scene, but his sub looks wonderful in the bright sunlight. Standing up straight, shoulders thrown back, eyes meeting Castiel’s without wavering. The intensity between them is still there, the heat and chemistry that made their scenes so unforgettable. But Castiel has to think with his heart right now, not any _other_ anatomy. Regardless of how difficult that might be.

“Maybe I can help you with that,” his sub whispers hoarsely. He clears his throat, biting his lip in a tempting way that Castiel wants to zero in on. Castiel isn’t quite sure why the man is reacting this way, but he supposes this _is_ awkward, running into someone when your only connection is a BDSM sex club. Oh, the things they’ve done to each other…

“Perhaps,” Castiel says cautiously, eyes still trained on the door. “I’m looking for a man named—”

“Dean,” his sub says breathlessly, his gaze searching Castiel’s face with such fervency, Cas wonders what sort of face he’s making. Confused, probably. “Dean Winchester.”

“How do you know that?” Cas grips the gift bag tighter. “Did you meet him during the course? Or maybe you met my friend, Hannah? I imagine the class is fairly small.”

“No. I know that, because…” The man pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes fluttering shut. After a pause they open again, as if he’s decided something with overwhelming clarity. “I know that because—I know you. Okay? I know everything about you, Cas. You hate mornings, but you love morning runs, which is such a contradiction that it makes me laugh. Your favorite wine is secretly moscato, but you think it’s an embarrassing wine to love, so you always order merlot. You’ve been on a diet for like, six months, but when you’re feeling sad you eat nonstop carbs. You have a brother, Gabriel, who has an ex named Kali who you think he should get back together with. You’re a flight medic and you love every minute of it—you love making important decisions, you love the adrenaline, you love saving people. Your cousins are Michael and Luke, but you don’t like them very much, and you haven’t seen them since Gabriel’s birthday party. Your favorite writer is Mary Oliver, and you love reading her poems before bed. You’re a shitty baker but you can follow a recipe perfectly. Your voice, your boots, your eyes—they drive me fucking wild. You have no clue what you do to me. You…you’re Flyboy83. And Castiel Novak. Cas. _My Cas_.” 

Castiel hasn’t breathed, hasn’t spoken, hasn’t dare to blink.  

His sub—Dean. 

_His sub is Dean._

_Dean is Medic67._

_Dean and his sub are the same person._

“Dean?” His voice sounds so small, so scared. The gift bag slips to the ground. Hands shaking, heart thundering out of his chest, Castiel isn’t quite sure how he’s still upright at the moment. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean smiles at him, eyes watery and wide. “So, I’ve had two days to think about what I wanna say to you. Two of the longest days of my damn life, by the way. And just to put all my cards on the table…” 

Castiel pales, holding his breath and waiting for Dean to continue. He has a feeling this is one of those moments he going to look back on and replay in his mind, over and over again. 

“I didn’t know who you were, not until recently. And since you look like you’re on the verge of having a heart attack, I’m thinking you didn’t either. But no matter what, you’re still my best friend. And my dom…if you wanna be. And there’s—” He looks down, blushing, eyelashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks. “Well, there’s a damn good chance that I’m in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Bacon in Bed, More cliffhangers to make readers riot
> 
> So, we just learned that all the proceeds for the Fic Facer's auction is going to the Center for Human Development in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua (via Random Acts, of course). How awesome is that?! You still have two days to bid on us—TrenchcoatBaby and CBFirestarter—or donate! Learn more [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/?fbclid=IwAR2FrMME7OoM4uElG53KpsvBQ5IxLUfWSfhnLlUf8JpxVjNZF3on19ARjF8)!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Depending on your time zone, maybe you're cozing up with a cup of coffee or sitting down for a lazy, weekend lunch. Whatever you're up to, just know that we love and appreciate our readers and hope you have a great day. <3
> 
> Without further adieu, we release you from cliffhanger hell. ENJOY.

Castiel is sweating, the high-noon sun beating down on him without mercy. He doubts he’s ever felt this particular mix of emotions before: panicked, confused, full of questions, full of hope. How in the world is he supposed to process a love confession when he just found out Dean and his sub are the _same person_?

“It’s, uh, okay if that’s one-sided.” Dean scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down at the cement sidewalk. “I figured it was a long shot.”

Castiel blinks, still dazed. “Dean—”

“No, y’know, I get it. Being friends was one thing, but now that you know the weird ways I get off, and what a pile of freaking neuroses that I am, I can see why—”

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is cool and strong, very much the opposite of what he’s feeling inside. But even as he’s working through his own feelings, he can’t let Dean think he’s unwanted. Not when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Stop.”

Dean glances up at the demanding tone, still frowning slightly, though his eyes are sparked with interest. “You sayin’ that as my friend, or my master?”

Mischievous, even now, Castiel thinks in amazement. It’s amusing, even arousing to hear the word “master” come from those lips again. _Those lips_. But he still has so many questions, so many details to work out. 

“Whichever one makes you sit with me,” Cas says simply, picking up the gift as he spots a bench in a blissfully shady corner. He checks his phone for the time, ignoring a string of notifications from Hannah begging for an update, and sees they only have fifteen minutes remaining in Dean’s break. He leads them towards the bench anyways, though he doesn’t know quite what to say or how to say it.

He sits down first and watches as Dean follows, immediately putting his elbows on his knees and looking over the parking lot with a sigh. Castiel stays upright but shifts around uneasily. 

“That for me?” Dean’s voice is soft, looking over at the bag that Castiel has been clutching. Cas nods dimly, still not quite believing _this_ is Medic67. In all his visions of what his online friend looked like, he never, ever dreamed he would be this beautiful. That Cas would be this lucky.

“Here,” Castiel says lowly, voice cracking. “It’s nothing, really…just a ‘good luck with bootcamp’ gift.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean mumbles.

“You didn’t have to mail me Mary Oliver poems,” Castiel points out. 

“You didn’t have to mail me panties,” Dean retorts, though it comes out more as a hoarse whisper, and Castiel’s heart is racing all over again.

“I…I liked doing things for you. For both of you. For my best friend. And my gorgeous sub.” He closes his eyes, overwhelmed by this whole revelation. “The things I wanted to give you were often quite different, but now…now they’re…the same…” He swallows and looks up at Dean’s curious gaze, realizing he’s not making a shred of sense. “I’m sorry. I’m just having trouble processing all this.”

“No, I get it.” Dean scoots closer, and though they’re still not touching, Castiel is aware of the other man’s body like it’s a sixth sense. They’re drawn together, that much is clear and always has been. “Can I…?”

He’s touching the gift bag and Castiel flushes, says, “Yes, yes, of course.” 

Dean ruffles through the tissue paper until he pulls out the record, an original ‘69 LP. It’s a gatefold sleeve with a worn-out cover, but the vinyl is in great condition.   

“Wow,” Dean breathes, handling the Zeppelin with obvious care. “This is freaking awesome. Thanks, Cas.”

Even in all the uncertainty, it feels good to know he’s made his friend happy. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, thinking for a moment about adding a “Dean” to the end of that sentence, but it still feels…unbelievable. Illogical, that Castiel could fall for two men who happen to be the same person. 

“You really shouldn’t have kept it out in the sun like this, though,” Dean comments, stuffing the tissue paper back over it and sliding it under the bench and further into the shade. 

“Sorry,” Castiel grumbles indignantly, without feeling very sorry at all. “I’ve been a little distracted.”

“Touché,” Dean says, throwing his hands up nonchalantly. He clears his throat, eyes darting around. “Listen, about what I said—”

“Can we just…sit here together?” Cas interrupts, rubbing his temples with sudden exhaustion. He doesn’t want to leave Dean, doesn’t want to add to his friend’s insecurities or incorrect assumptions of how he’s feeling, but he really needs a quiet space to work all this out. 

“Uh, right,” Dean answers unconvincingly. “We’ll just sit here in silence. Not talking. Cool.”

Castiel wishes he could take Dean’s hand, could thread their fingers together and give them a reassuring squeeze, but they’re not there yet. Though, perhaps they are…

_There’s a damn good chance that I’m in love with you._

Castiel’s stomach flips, his throat suddenly parched. It’s not the first time he’s been on the receiving end of a love confession. But it _is_ the first time he’s wanted to say it back. 

Which is insane, of course, because they hardly know each other. Well, except for the part where they know each other completely, in every important way you can know someone. Intimately. Sexually. Emotionally. 

Earlier, Dean had said he hadn’t known Castiel’s true identity until two days ago, but is that true? Under normal circumstances he would never doubt Medic67, and he wants to fight his skepticism, to hold onto that trust. But he’s had trouble with subs in the past… In his mind, he still sees Becky’s frazzled knocks on his apartment door, still sees the police report he had to file, and later, the conversations he’d had with Billie about maintaining privacy. He would be a fool to leap into this headfirst. Right?

“It’s just, sorta killing me right now, not knowing what you’re thinking,” Dean confesses, interrupting Castiel’s thoughts. He spares the man a glance, and when their eyes meet, it’s a mirror image of uncertainty.

“Dean, I just need…” Castiel trails off, not knowing what exactly he needs beyond _time_. Time to come to terms with all this.

“Yeah, yeah, s’fine.” Dean sits up, stretches a little, and shoots Castiel another glance. “It’s just—say you _were_ the type to think out loud. What would you say?”

Castiel sighs, suddenly fighting the urge to chuckle. “I see your inclination for impatience is not only prevalent in scenes, Dean.”

Unfortunately, now he’s remembering all the times Dean _was_ impatient—begging for his cock, begging to be spanked, begging to come. Jesus. It’s making his jeans feel immensely tighter. Castiel almost wishes he hadn’t said that, but it’s always been too easy to lose his head around this man. 

Dean blushes, as if they’re sharing the same memories…and maybe they are. He scoots closer again, this time their thighs and hips brushing, and throws a hand behind Castiel’s shoulder. He leans in hesitantly, lips dangerously close to brushing Castiel’s ear. 

“Maybe you’ll just have to punish me,” he whispers. Castiel’s whole body stiffens, resisting the urge to go full dom, right here and now. He wants to walk them to his car, to kiss the breath out of his sub, to instruct him to wrap his lips around Castiel’s cock—a deliciously tight and warm heat that he can recall in vivid detail.

He moves closer and tilts his head, eyes heated. Dean licks his lips and his gaze follows. Cas’ heart is thrumming in his chest, feeling the shift in energy between them, palpable as a heat wave.

“You really are a brat,” Castiel breathes, though his tone is more flattering than admonishing, and Dean’s eyes are filled with excitement. Cas is about to close the distance between them—talking and thinking and processing be damned—when he hears someone calling Dean’s name.

“Winchester. Dean Winchester?” It’s a man standing in the doorway of the school’s entrance, holding a clipboard in his hand. 

“Shit,” Dean groans, pulling back an inch or two. He looks at the instructor with a scowl. “I’m super tempted to just quit.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Castiel says firmly. “You’ve worked and trained too hard for this.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean exhales shakily. “I know I messed up, ignoring you for a few days, and now dropping all my feelings on you like a needy teenager. I’ve handled this all wrong, Cas, but need to know you’re not gonna disappear on me the minute I walk through those doors.”

Castiel’s heart swells, and he brings his hand up, cupping Dean’s cheek. “That would never happen.” He’s on the verge of spilling all his feelings, muddled and passionate as they are, but the instructor is looking around disapprovingly. The timing isn’t right. “You have to go. I would never forgive myself if I distracted you from this.”

But he can’t bring himself to remove his hand from Dean’s cheek, who leans into the touch, breathing heavily. “When will I see you?”

Castiel thinks for a moment, knowing they need a safe but public space to talk all this out. Finally, he says, “Call Pam and set up the appointment at the B&B. I’ll be there.”

Dean nods, staring back down at Castiel’s lips with obvious regret before standing up. Castiel’s hand falls, but not before Dean catches it, squeezing lightly. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, reaching for his gift bag before turning around and sauntering back towards the instructor. Castiel watches him go, appreciating the way the denim hugs his tight little ass. Once he’s back inside and out of sight, Cas blinks a few times, wondering if he just imagined all of that. 

_Dean is his sub. Dean is Medic67. He was about to make out with Dean on this bench._

In reality, Dean could be totally duplicitous, catfishing him just like Gabriel suggested months ago… But no part of that theory lines up. They were friends long before they were dom and sub, and they didn’t exchange names until recently, so there’s no way Dean could have tracked him down at the B&B somehow. Not unless their entire friendship has been a lie.

And since that’s not true, that means Dean really did just find out, too. But…where? How? The pile up from a few days ago? Had he seen Castiel getting out of the helicopter, but Castiel hadn’t seen him?

Cas shakes his head, overloaded with too many possibilities. He stumbles through the parking lot and back to his car in a sort of stupor. He knows he needs to be alone right now, to take a few days to work through things, but he already misses Dean’s company. He starts the engine and puts the car in reverse, wondering if the possible love of his life is sitting inside that school, desperately wondering what Castiel is thinking.

***

Later that night, after Dean’s finished the first day of training, he fries up more bacon. An entire pound, actually. He doesn’t tuck it away and run to his bedroom, though, so he considers that a win. He sits in the recliner, fingers greasy, watching some dumb movie Sam and Jo are cuddled up on the loveseat watching. He dodges their questions about what happened today, or about how bootcamp is going, because he’s too overwhelmed to give them a recap. The only thing he does do is apologize for his reaction to the news of their dating, which thankfully, they'd both gotten over quickly.

He keeps his phone nearby in case Flyboy83…or, _Cas_ …sends him a message.

He doesn't.

***

Hannah cuts Castiel off after his fourth whiskey.

“But I’m still…processing,” Castiel argues, looking around his kitchen to try and locate the fifth of Jim Beam he’s been demolishing. He normally doesn’t drink much—that time he got drunk on Gabriel’s birthday was a total outlier—but there’s something about finding out your best friend is also your secret sexual partner that makes Cas want to act out.

“No you’re not. You’re drinking to forget,” Hannah points out, almost sternly, with her hands on her hips. She’s been here since her training ended, nearly six hours ago, forcing Cas to eat carbs to soak up the alcohol and listening to him lament about how his online best friend is also, somehow, insanely, his “friends-with-benefits.”

“I’m not trying to forget, I’m just trying…” Castiel trails off, shrinking in on himself a little and closing the cabinet with a weak thud. After everything that happened outside the school, after the reveal that’s shaken him more than he ever expected, he’s not sure how to move forward. Medic67—Dean—said he’s in love with him. But how could that be, when he’s met Castiel the dom and knows Castiel, Flyboy83, but he doesn’t know the whole package…Castiel Novak, the man?

“Where’s my phone?” he asks abruptly, patting his pockets.

“Hidden for your protection,” Hannah says, grabbing a clean glass from the dishrack and pouring Castiel a large cup of water. 

“But I want to talk to…Dean.” The word still feels foreign in Cas’ mouth, at least when he’s also picturing his gorgeous sub in his head. 

“Tomorrow, okay?” She thrusts the water glass into his hand, waiting for him to take a few tentative sips. She relaxes a little once he does. “I need to go home soon and get a good night’s sleep. Hopefully Dean is doing the same already.”

Castiel nods, though he’d momentarily forgotten all about the training during his freaking out. Hannah’s right, he shouldn’t be distracting Dean with drunken messages at midnight, not when he has such a big day ahead of him. 

“Leave my phone before you go,” Cas says, and she raises an eyebrow, so he continues. “I won’t do anything tonight, I promise.”

Hannah doesn’t look convinced, but she can’t exactly leave his apartment without handing over his cell phone, so she goes to her purse and comes back promptly, sliding it into his open palm. Castiel checks the screen immediately, imagining that Dean has been sending him a slew of messages, but…nothing. No notifications, not even a spam email or two.

“Don’t spend the whole night obsessing over this,” Hannah warns, before finally opening his apartment door and heading down the steps. Castiel promises he won’t, but then he lies awake all night, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, wondering how he didn’t see something that was right in front of him.

***

Today is the day of bootcamp Dean has most been looking forward to—they finally get to train with real gear. He’s standing in the school gym, wearing his loose-fitting uniform with a vest on top and a helmet snug on his head. After lunch they’ll learn SWAT protocols and have weapon training. He’s been nerding out over this for weeks, always secretly wishing he could be a badass who saves people with force as well as healing. But he’s not able to enjoy it, living out his pseudo-soldier daydream, because it’s almost been a full twenty-four hours now since he’s seen or heard from Cas.

At lunch, he unpacks his brown paper sack and pulls out a squashed sandwich, frowning at all the lettuce and tomato Sam piled on. Dean’s tempted to hit up the vending machines in the hallway instead, but knows the sugar crash will make him sluggish and tired in the afternoon, so he chews through his whole wheat veggie crap with a scowl on his face. He sits on the bleacher outside, sweating in the high summer sun, and keeps refreshing his phone as if… _something_ will appear there.

“Just message him already,” someone says from behind. Dean turns to see that brunette woman, the one who had called his name yesterday, is sitting a few rows behind. Hannah, Dean thinks suddenly, everything clicking into place.

“What if he doesn’t wanna hear from me?” Dean grumbles, figuring there’s no need to pretend he doesn’t know who, or what, Castiel’s friend is talking about. 

“He does,” she says with utter confidence, and it makes Dean feels slightly less depressed for the first time all morning.

“Thanks,” he says softly. He drops his sandwich, shaking the crumbles from his palm, and outstretches his hand. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“I figured,” she says, with a chuckle, “I’m Hannah.”

They chat for a few more minutes, making small talk about bootcamp and their expectations for this afternoon. With ten minutes to spare, though, Dean excuses to go make a phone call. He tucks himself behind the building, hiding from view, and finally calls the B&B to make their appointment. Pam sets it for the day after tomorrow, though Billie needs to confirm the time with Dean’s dom. Dean’s mouth goes dry at the thought.

Whatever happens next will be completely up to Cas.

***

Castiel feels an ache in his shin, the pavement hot and flat beneath his tennis shoes, but still he keeps running. He never jogs this late in the day, but thanks to his lack of sleep and slight hangover, he hadn’t rolled out of bed until close to noon. Normally he listens to music while he runs, but his head is buzzing enough already. 

He finishes the first mile without much of an effort, though he’s sweating more than usual. He waits at a crosswalk for the traffic to pass, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, sending a message to Dean before he can second-guess himself.

FlyBoy83 12:13 PM >> **Hope your training is going well.**

He wants to wait and see if the three-dot bubble appears, praying that Dean is on his lunch break and responds quickly, but the crosswalk finally lights up and he’s forced to begin his run again. He has a few more miles on this route, but he’s so preoccupied, everything passes in a blur. 

Did his message to Dean sound too bossy? He hadn’t asked Dean how training is going, he had _told_ Dean how he hoped training is going…there’s a distinction there that makes Castiel uncomfortable. Now that Dean knows he’s a dom, and knows that fact very well, Cas doesn’t want to come off as an overbearing, domineering dictator. Not after he’s spent six months calling Dean a little bitch, a slutty whore, a needy pet, and a whole range of other humiliating names that wouldn’t seem normal to anyone but them. 

He makes the loop back to his apartment, finally planting himself on the front stoop. He uses his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his crown, then sighs, looking at his phone again. He has a message from Dean and a voicemail from the B&B.

Medic67 12:14 PM << **Thanks**

Medic67 12:15 PM << **I just called pam btw**

Before he responds, Cas listens to his voicemail—it seems their talk is scheduled for Friday at three o’clock. He gulps.

FlyBoy83 12:50 PM >> **Sorry, I was running. I just saw the missed call from Billie. I’ll be coming off a night shift, but that’ll work.**

Castiel takes a deep breath, his chest still panting slightly from the run, and begins typing again.

FlyBoy83 12:51 PM >> **Thank you for letting me take some time. It’s a lot to process, and I still have questions, but I can’t wait to see you.**

Medic67 12:52 PM << **I am really fucking relieved to hear you say that**

Castiel smiles, feeling like a weight has been partially lifted from his shoulders. It feels good to talk to Dean again—feels right.

FlyBoy83 12:53 PM >> **Aren’t you in training right now?**

Medic67 12:54 PM << **maybeeee**

He chuckles, shaking his head as he stretches his burning calves.

FlyBoy83 12:54 PM >> **Well then, I’ll let you go. See you soon, Dean.**

***

By Friday, Dean's lost what little confidence he had.

“You need help in there?” Jo calls through the door.

He’s about to yell at her to mind her own damn business, but just about half his wardrobe is all over his bed and he’s almost in panic mode.

“Maybe!” he snaps back at her.

She slinks into the room, the grin on her face disappearing as she takes in the state of his bed. “Dude, what happened here?”

“I don’t know what to wear, okay?” His anxiety is reaching epically high levels.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Jo says, smiling at him. She’s been hanging out around their apartment the past few days, so Dean had eventually spilled the beans about the whole Cas situation.

“This is stupid,” he groans, sitting down on the pile of clothes and hiding his face in his hands.

“No, you want to look good tonight. I get it. Took me an hour to pick out clothes for my first real date with Sam…and he had known me since we were nine.” She laughs, elbowing him over to look at what’s on his bed. “What about this?” She holds up a soft green henley.

“Isn’t that too....simple?” Maybe this is hopeless and pointless and stupid. He’s been sick to his stomach for days since seeing Castiel. It was a miracle he made it through his training. He’d been so worried, stressing out about what Castiel was thinking or wanted, that he can hardly breath when he thinks about it.

“Simple is fine, Dean. You want to just be yourself, okay?”

“You calling me simple?” he grumbles at her.

“No, Dean. Actually, you are surprisingly complex, so why don’t we stick with an easy outfit. Plus, this one brings out your eyes.” She bats her lashes dramatically at him, causing him to crack a small smile against his will. “Green henley and these black jeans and you will do great.”

He nods at her as she throws the clothes at him, giving him a little squeeze before leaving him to change. He can’t believe he’s going through with this. He should just cancel now and save himself the heartache of getting rejected by not only his best friend, but his dom as well. He needs to rally, to be that charming, teasing, sexy man he wanted to be. He wants to seduce the pants off Castiel, but he just doesn’t know if he can do it. 

Right as he feels the wave of tension building up to an unmanageable level, his phone buzzes. He looks down to see that he has a message on his Signal app. They’ve only exchanged a few messages in the three days apart, and they haven’t been nearly enough. He clutches at it, grabbing his phone—desperate to hear from Cas. But he freezes a second before opening the message, wondering if he’s canceling or having second thoughts. Well, better to find out now then at the club. Besides, he likes his own whiskey better than the shit they serve at Black and Blue.

FlyBoy83 7:58 PM << **I’m excited to see you tonight.**

Dean’s pretty sure his heart just fluttered in his chest, and he fights the urge to wanna run an EKG on himself. He’s beyond excited.

Medic67 8:01 PM >> **Same**

Then, in a moment of weakness, he messages again.

Medic67 8:01 PM >> **A little nervous actually**

He quickly sees the three dots pop up showing Castiel typing.

FlyBoy83 8:03 PM << **Me too. But it’s going to be okay :)**

Medic67 8:04 PM >> **That’s good to hear :)**

FlyBoy83 8:04 PM << **See you soon.**

He breathes out hard as he sets the phone down. Feeling a bit more confident, he finally changes and gives himself a quick glance before leaving his room. He hears a wolf whistle, and without even looking, flips off his little brother as he grabs his keys.

“You’ll do great, Dean!”

“Be yourself!”

Jo and Sam yell after him, and he all but runs out the door before he turns redder than a firetruck. 

He fidgets and shifts in his seat on the short drive to the club. He parks, and is actually early, figuring he probably broke several driving laws getting over here so quickly. He shakes his head, slapping himself in the face to get his damn head on straight, when he hears a tap on his car window and jumps at the blue eyes staring down at him.

He swallows hard before grabbing his keys and stepping out of the car. Castiel takes a step back, looking him up and down. He reaches up a hand, cradling Dean’s chin, his palm feeling over the spot he had just lightly smacked himself. 

“Thought that was my job?” Castiel says, breaking the silence with his low grumble.

Just the sound of his voice makes Dean’s dick twitch with excitement. “That depends,” he breathes out.

“On?”

“You,” he replies simply.

“You mean us.” Castiel gives him a warm smile before his hand drops from his face. Dean feels the cool loss of it for only a second when he sees Cas has moved to offer it to Dean. He grasps the offered hand like a life line and feels the reassuring squeeze. Without another word Castiel leads them toward the club, and Dean slips right into step behind him, feeling more at ease just being close to him.

Billie eyes them from the reception desk as they come in, a brow raised. “Well, you two forget to tell me something?”

“No, we just ran into each other in the parking lot,” Castiel answers confidently for them. Dean just nods in agreement.

“Alright, we have a small room down that hall where you can talk. It has the number seven on it. If you need Pam or I just pick up the phone in the room and dial four. And remember, it’s not a playroom. It’s neutral ground, okay?”

“Thanks.” Dean smiles at Billie, feeling a little foolish for still holding Castiel’s hand but unwilling to let go. He feels the familiar rush of excitement, being back here with his dom. Just the mention of playing out a scene still makes his dick twitch.

Castiel again leads the way, with sure, confident steps, and Dean is again reminded of the night he saw Cas on that call. Movements so graceful and calculated it was mesmerizing. They enter the small room to find a round table paired with three chairs and a small loveseat couch. It’s a pretty sparse room, except for the bookshelf containing several books on BDSM, sex, and relationships. Dean had borrowed some of them from Pam early on in his exploration phase.

“Table?” Cas asks, gesturing to the seats. Dean thinks it’s a good idea, as opposed to the couch. He needs some physical distance to keep his head on straight. He grabs a chair and seats himself across from Castiel, staring at his hands.

“So, uh, how do we do this?” He glances up at Cas to see him sitting upright, head cocked to the side like he’s considering Dean’s question.

“Well, can you tell me how you found out about us…or me, rather?” Cas gives him a warm, encouraging smile but Dean grimaces, bracing himself for the fear and distrust that will likely be coming his way.

“I was in one of the crunch cars on that scene from a few nights ago. I was with my patient, surrounded by the crew, and I saw you getting your patient.” He picks at his fingers, gaze returned to the table. “So I couldn’t really yell at you—I had a patient to worry about. Then I just kinda…freaked out, you know?”

A hand lands on top of his, making Dean jump a bit and look up to meet Castiel’s eyes. Cas’ gaze looks more firm and steady, and Dean thinks it’s the dom side of Cas that goes into calm control mode when someone else is worked up. No wonder he’s such a good medic. “I know exactly what you’re saying, Dean.”

“Oh, good. Yeah so, it just took me a while to figure out what to do.” He shrugs, feeling like it’s so lame of an excuse.

“So, you never suspected we were the same person?” 

Dean bristles at that a bit.

“No, I just told you I didn’t. Did you know I was Medic67?” He pulls his hand back and crosses his arms over his chest, feeling more exposed than ever.

Cas lets out a long sigh before responding. “No, Dean. I had no idea. And what’s more, I believe you. I know you didn’t find out until you say you did.”

“How do you know?” Dean looks up, searching the man’s face.

“Because…I know you, and you would never hide something like that from me. Something that could make us both so happy.” Dean feels a little tension go, hearing that Castiel believes him.

“We were really fucking dense, dude.” He smiles when Castiel barks out a laugh. It’s a surprising sound…Dean can’t remember if he’s ever heard his dom laugh.

“I believe that qualifies as an overstatement.” There’s a wrinkle in the corners of his eyes and Dean just stares for a moment, taking it all in. Cas’ face is warm and soft, eyes happy and bright. It’s so different than his dom persona, so human, so exactly what FlyBoy83 would look like. Castiel stops laughing, catching eyes with Dean, and he can’t believe _that blue_ exists in real life. He barely saw them that afternoon a few days ago. Before that, he’d only ever seen his dom’s eyes in the low light of a playroom. They’re gorgeous, so full of something close to joy.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Dean breathes out on a small laugh.

“It’s truly surreal,” Castiel agrees.

“But you’ve had some time to think now…” He leaves the sentence open-ended. He feels sick with the dread of rejection. Even now, he’s ready to bolt up out of his chair and run out the door before Cas can say, _it’s not you, it’s me_.

“Yes, and it’s about all I’ve thought about. I didn’t even think to ask how the rest of your training went?”

“Fine, I passed anyway. Though my shoulder is killing me a bit from the drills.” He shrugs as said shoulder gives a small twinge.

“I’m really proud of you,” Cas begins, and Dean huffs in disbelief. “I mean it. You worked so hard, I’m glad it paid off.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles, but feels a little glow that Castiel is proud of him. It makes his inner sub purr. 

“Do I get a reward for being a good boy?” He glances up at Cas now from under his lashes, watching the lust play across his face. Whoever thinks the sub has no power, doesn’t understand this dynamic at all, Dean thinks ruefully.

“All good boys do,” Cas answers in a rumble. “I have every intention of showing you just how proud I am of you, but I think we need to finish our talk first. Do you agree?” Dean nods quickly, not sure he can speak without his voice betraying his feelings. 

“You should know, I was planning to give this up.” Cas pauses, looks at Dean a moment before continuing. “I was planning to give up my gorgeous sub…possibly even doming all together.”

Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach and it feels like a bucket of ice water was dumped over his head. This was a terrible idea—for all of Castiel’s flirting, he’s still just here to let him down easy.

“I get it, I mean, I know we did a lot of really out-there stuff, so I get it, okay? No hard feelings or whatever other shit I’m supposed to say.” Dean hurries the words out, all the sudden feeling hurt and betrayed and humiliated. He’s about to slide out of his chair when a hand grasps his wrist, holding him in the seat. 

“Please, Cas, if you’re gonna end it just do it already. I can’t take the waiting anymore, it’s killing me.”  He’s so distracted that he misses what Castiel is saying to him. The words sound muffled till he focuses on them.

“—Dean, would you please stay and let me finish?”

“If you don’t want me—”

“How could I ever not want you? You are everything to me, Dean… please stay. I need to get this out.” Cas sounds so sincere that Dean looks up, seeing the matching look of concern on his face.

Dean sighs, moving back into his chair and taking a deep breath to try and gain some control again. “Okay, I’ll listen.”

“I was going to give all of this up because I was falling in love with my best friend. It tore me up inside—the thought of losing the most beautiful, responsive, giving, uninhibited sub I had ever met. You are a fantasy come to life, trusting me with all of yourself, it was...it _is_ so important to me. You are so important to me. Still, I would have given all that up for Medic67 because I want more _Dean_. I want a best friend, a partner, someone to share my life with, who isn’t just on a messenger app. I want someone in my bed at night. I was ready to take that chance.” Castiel looks at his face now with an expression Dean can only classify with words like love and adoration, which make him wildy uncomfortable. It’s a nice look though, one he’s dreamed about. “I am very interested in pursuing a relationship with you, Dean. Maybe we can have the best of both worlds?”

Cas wants him, all of him, and it’s left Dean kinda speechless for a moment. He licks his lips, smirking as Castiel’s eyes track the movement. “Are you asking if you can be my boyfriend or my dom?”

“I am asking for both, but maybe we start by you letting me take you out on a date?”

Dean can’t remember the last date he’s been on. He stares at Cas a minute, slightly in shock. “A date? Dude, you’ve had your cock in my ass on several occasions. You know my favorite food, all about my family, what movies I watch, and what I do for work. Why a date?” He can’t imagine them doing something so incredible normal.

“I know you sexually, Dean, though not as much as I hope to. I also know you as a friend, as my best friend. But what I’m asking for is the chance to…romance you a little. Let me show you how much I want you as more than a friend and more than a sub.”

Dean thinks about it. He hasn’t missed the fact that neither of them have brought up Dean’s love confession from a few days ago. Though Cas had said he was falling for Dean, maybe that means he isn’t all the way there but wants to find out. The thought is terrifying. This might be the most vulnerable he’d ever been in his life. But he looks up at those hopeful blue eyes and knows then that he still meant every word he’d said in that parking lot. He loves this man, and he’s just going to have to face his fears if he’s going to stand a chance with him.

“A date?” he asks again.

“A date.”

“Alright, I’m in, then.” Dean gives him a crooked half smile and Castiel returns that smile in spades. Dean stands up, moving around the table toward Cas. He leans down, arching his back until his lips are right against Cas’ ear. “But just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

Castiel turns his head.  “Oh, I like a challenge…”  Dean can feel Castiel's breath against his ear. “Game on, Winchester.” 

This is going to be so much fun.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left! 
> 
> What do you hope happens before the story ends?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovely Readers!  
> CB here bringing you this monster of a chapter. I know we're posting a bit behind schedule, but we simply couldn't stop writing. We are thinking there are maybe two more chapters after this (I know, insert tears). We will try and post as quick as we can, but we may not be able to stick to a strict posting schedule. Just know we are working to bring this to a sexy, sweet, and satisfying end.  
> Enjoy!  
> PS: tags in end notes  
> PSS: It is my coauthor's (Trenchcoatbaby) birthday next week, so send her happy birthday <3

Castiel frowns down at his Lincoln Continental. The off-color shade of gold is usually good at hiding all the grime and pollen littering the exterior, but tonight… Well, tonight he’s picking up Dean Winchester—automotive enthusiast, adorable nerd, and certified sex dream—and while Cas has never been one to be nervous on a first date, he’s been fidgeting and primping all day. 

In preparation, he decides to take the “Pimpmobile” (as his brother annoyingly named it) through a car wash. It’s one of those automated ones, and he even pays extra to have his tires spot-glossed, though he’s never cared about that sort of thing before. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror, inspecting his face for blemishes, angling his mouth open to ensure his flossing got the job done. His windshield is covered in sudsy bubbles when he hears the ping of a message coming through his Signal app.

Medic67 5:01 PM << **you’ve got my address right**

FlyBoy83 5:01 PM >> **Of course. :)**

He had asked for it yesterday, but Cas also could’ve gotten it from the return address on the package Dean had mailed him weeks ago. 

Medic67 5:02 PM << **cool**

Medic67 5:03 PM << **let me know when you’re outside**

Castiel furrows his brow. Does Dean really think he’s not going to come to the door? He may be out of practice with this whole dating thing, and it’s the first time he’s ever intended to properly romance someone, but there’s no way he’s waiting in the parking lot for Dean like some unmannered hook-up. He shakes his head, about to reply, when his Lincoln is ushered through the conveyor system and thrust under the dryer. He pulls through, parking next to the vacuums and hoovering out the interior, spending extra time on the passenger side so Dean won’t be able to spot any dust or dirt. The mat’s a little stained, and the leather seat is cracked, but he still wants to put in the effort.

His fingers thrum the steering wheel the whole drive over, not paying attention to the random radio station crooning in the background. It’s been a few days since he’s seen Dean—it took them a while to find a night neither of them were scheduled to work—but they’ve been messaging constantly, Medic67 and Flyboy83, just like they used to. It’s a dynamic Castiel hopes they can transfer into real life conversation, all the banter and teasing and flirting, but he’s only had two actual conversations with Dean at this point. He wants to be all the things Dean imagines he is, wants to appear cool and confident. Inside, though, he’s more panicked than he’s ever felt. There’s a very good chance he’s in love with this man—a terrifying and exhilarating thought. 

His car enters the apartment complex and he finds a parking spot right outside Dean’s building. He’s a little early, but that’s better than late. He reaches for the dashboard and grabs the bundle of orange and yellow gerberas, a small half-dozen arrangement he had picked up at the farmer’s market before he could talk himself out of it, and opens his door. He’s wearing dark denim jeans and a light-wash chambray shirt. He’d agonized over the shoe selection, almost settling on a safe, boring pair of loafers, before his less reasonable dom persona set in. He had laced up his leather boots before the decision had officially been made. Though he mostly wants to spend the evening getting to know Dean, perhaps even sweeping him off his feet, there’s a mischievous part of him that wants to tease his sub mercilessly.

That part won out. 

He locates Dean’s apartment without much trouble, one hand jingling his keys while the other grasps the flowers, wrapped neatly in brown paper. His knuckles rake over wood, legs feeling wobbly, and the door opens wide to reveal a short, blonde woman. Castiel can’t contain his surprise—did he knock on the wrong door?—when she shouts, “Dean, your date’s here, and you’re right…he definitely looks like a sex god.”

“Jesus, Jo,” Dean mutters, somewhere inside the apartment, and Castiel relaxes a bit and chuckles.

“You must be Dean’s partner and Sam’s girlfriend,” Castiel comments, and Jo looks surprised by how much Cas already knows. He stretches out his hand and she shakes it steadily. “I’m Castiel.”

“Jo,” she responds, grinning now. “C’mon in. We’ve been dying to meet you.” 

The door is thrown open and Castiel crosses the threshold. The place is neat and clean—he remembers vaguely that Dean is a stress-cleaner, so that explains the fluffy white carpet and polished baseboards. Jo walks over to the couch, whispering as a broad, tall man stands up, regarding Castiel with a friendly smile. This must be Sam, and Castiel goes to shake hands, but Dean is blocking his entrance. He’s wearing a teal colored t-shirt with a matching flannel open and layered, his jeans tight enough to make his bowlegs prominent. His hair looks freshly washed and sculpted, his face smooth and shaved, freckles dusting his tan skin. 

He’s beautiful. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas rumbles, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

Arms crossed against his chest, staring between Cas and his family, Dean looks thoroughly and adorably embarrassed. Somehow, his nerves make Castiel feel more in-control. There’s something about Dean’s presence that makes him want to be the best version of himself, to become everything he needs. 

“Cas,” Dean hisses lowly, “thought I was gonna meet you outside.”

Castiel gives him a firm look. “If we’re going to do this, Dean, we’re going to do it right.” As if on cue, he remembers the flowers in his hands, presenting the bouquet with a flourish. “These are for you.”

“Oh jeez,” Dean mutters, though he blushes and looks pleased. “I’m not some teenage girl, y’know.”

“Yes, thankfully,” Castiel replies, with a smirk, “because if not, that would make you both too young and the wrong gender.” 

“Ha, ha, ha.” Dean rolls his eyes, but Sam and Jo both chuckle good-naturedly. 

“I think there’s a vase in the top cabinet,” Sam says, looking at his brother. “Need me to get it down?”

“Nope, the Jolly Green Giant can sit his ass back on the couch, I got this,” Dean grumbles, giving Cas’ wrist a squeeze before heading into the kitchen. Sam invites Castiel to sit down on the opposing loveseat, and he perches on the edge, hands clasped over his knees. 

“So, you’re a flight medic?” Sam asks, his tone genuine and curious. 

“Yes, for nearly a decade now. Being able to help people is a passion of mine, and the adrenaline certainly keeps things interesting.” 

“That’s exactly what made me interested in law…being a public defender doesn’t mean six figures, but at least I can help people who need it.” Sam smiles appreciatively and Jo nudges his shoulder, threading their fingers together and beaming up at him. Castiel can tell they’re in love, and though he knows it’s a new relationship, he wonders if Dean is aware of just how committed they are to each other. 

The man in question slides in beside him, holding a Pamplemousse LaCroix and fumbling it into Castiel’s hands. Cas squints, confused by the sudden appearance of his favorite drink, so Dean mumbles, “In case you’re thirsty. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone comes over?”

“Yes, but…” The corners of Castiel’s mouth quirk up into a smile. “Don’t you think LaCroix is ‘pretentious, flavorless, hipster crap’?”

Sam laughs, hand slapping his knee, while Jo smirks and points. “Wow, Dean, he really does know you."

“Shuddup,” Dean mumbles.

“He said that exact thing about an hour ago,” Jo explains, grinning. “But he made sure to stock it just in case you came inside.”

Castiel flushes, butterflies in his stomach. Dean has put just as much effort into the evening as he has—he just masks it well with sarcasm and embarrassment. 

“It’s adorable,” Sam teases, and Dean leans against the couch and flips him the bird. 

“Eat me,” he grumbles, though he catches Castiel’s eye and flashes him a wink. “You can’t tell me I’m not right though. Why the hell do they call it ‘Pamplemousse’? What the fuck does that even taste like?”

“Pamplemousse is French for grapefruit,” Cas says. 

“Told you,” Sam shouts, with the vindication of a younger brother. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean rolls his eyes again dramatically, though he's smiling too.

Castiel cracks the can open, taking a tentative sip. Dean watches, as if he expects him to spit it back out and side with him suddenly. But it tastes light and refreshing and Cas licks his lips, chasing a stray drop. Dean’s gaze follows the movement with sudden heat, and Cas clears his throat, looking down at the carpet. 

He racks his brain for a topic of conversation, inadvertently asking Sam about his academic and professional journey as a lawyer. He’s already heard most of this information from Dean, after nearly a year of online communication, but he sits and listens politely anyways, nodding and asking the right questions. Still, he can feel Dean’s presence beside him, electricity shooting up his spine every time their elbows brush or knees touch. It’s been weeks since they’ve been intimate together, weeks since they’ve even kissed, and the memory of their last scene in the club rises to the top of his mind.

They engage in another twenty minutes of chit chat before the conversation finds its natural end, and Castiel shakes both of their hands again, promising next time to tell Jo more about his tasks as a flight medic. _Next time._ Those had been her words, and Castiel smiles to himself, taking that as a good sign. Perhaps he’s passed the family portion of this date. One can only hope. 

They finally close the door behind them, silent as they go down the exterior steps. When they’ve reached the ground floor, Castiel checks to make sure it’s empty of other residents, then grabs Dean by the wrist. He places his other hand on Dean’s hip, nudging them towards the wall until Dean’s back is against brick. He pins him down, examining every inch of his breathtaking face. 

“Hello, Dean,” he whispers lowly, fixated on his eyes…such a mesmerizing shade of green, he can never seem to look away.

“Hey Cas,” Dean responds breathlessly, body melting under Castiel’s touch. Their bodies are flush and pliant, the sexual tension instant and undeniable, and Dean licks his lips and stares back with obvious yearning. 

“You know, I would kiss you,” Castiel closes the distance more, their lips almost brushing, “but word is, you don’t put out on the first date.” 

He pulls off completely then, taking a step towards the parking lot. He smirks at Dean’s look of incredulity, still frozen against the wall as if Cas is coming back to kiss the breath out of him. 

“You are one sadistic son of a bitch,” he grumbles, finally following Cas towards the Lincoln. Castiel laughs unexpectedly and Dean narrows his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Even though no one’s around, he drops his voice down low, hand on Dean’s lower back. “Dean. I’ve whipped you, spanked you, denied you orgasm after orgasm, massaged your prostate with a vibrator until you sobbed, asked you to wear a cock cage for days, forbid you to masturbate depending on the weather. But this, not kissing you just then, _this_ is what makes me sadistic?”

“When you put it that way…” Dean shakes his head, chuckling, though his cheeks are tinged pink. Castiel would like to pretend that highlighting their greatest hits hasn’t affected him, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Just being around Dean makes him giddy. 

Once they reach Cas’ car, he makes a show of opening up the passenger door, and Dean throws his hands up—like he can’t believe he’s being fussed over this much. Castiel slides into the driver’s side, turning the key in the ignition a half-dozen times before the engine suddenly sputters to life, and Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Y’know, I could look at that for you,” he comments, buckling his seatbelt. 

“That’s right. You were a mechanic in high school?”

“Not officially, just helped Bobby some,” Dean says humbly, as Castiel begins to pull out of the parking spot. “You might have a bad starter or a worn-out ignition switch.” He frowns at the pop station Cas had it turned to, adjusting it to classic rock with a smirk.

“You’ll have to drive next time,” Castiel says, voice soft and warm. “I’ve been dying to ride in the infamous Impala.”

“Been dying to ride you in the Impala,” Dean says jokingly, though his voice gets hoarse at the end in a way that’s quite…revealing. 

“Is that so?” Castiel’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. “What’d you imagine? Sitting in my lap? Straddling me? My cock splitting you open?”

“Dude,” Dean wheezes. “This is not normal first date small talk, y’know.”

“You started it,” Castiel points out innocently, grinning widely. “I’m simply trying to confirm the logistics of your daydream.”

“Two can play at this game,” Dean says ominously, though he doesn’t expand or explain himself. The thought of his sub teasing him, though, sets Castiel’s heart racing. They need to get in public, immediately, before he ends up pulling this car over and unzipping Dean’s pants… 

Luckily the bar is on this side of town, a place that Gabriel had suggested a few days ago. It has the best selection of southern whiskey and bourbon, which he knows will delight Dean, so it seemed the natural place for drinks. He parallel parks on the street, Dean offering him pointers on the correct way to straighten out his wheels. The backseat driving would be irritating from anyone else, but Castiel finds himself pleased to see Dean in his element, glad to witness all the facets of his personality that aren’t always present online or in a scene. His sureness, self-reliance, composure. Is this how Dean is behind the wheel, at work, while cooking? Usually he tends towards insecurity, humor, and emotions camouflaged by pithy one-liners. He’s one of the most complex people Castiel has ever met, and he looks forward to peeling back every layer.

They walk inside holding hands. It’s reminiscent of the last time they did this, arriving together at the B&B. The feeling of Dean’s hand clasping his reminds Cas of how truly new this all is…four days ago, he worried they might not ever get past their unconventional history. Now here they are on their first date. The hostess leads them to a corner booth, and Dean examines the expansive spirit selection with avid enthusiasm. Castiel tells him how some of the ryes are produced in barrels soaked with honey, a process he finds fascinating but makes Dean’s eyes glaze over. When they order drinks, they land on a rare top-shelf whiskey for Dean and a glass of red wine for Castiel.

“Merlot, huh?” Dean teases, eyebrows raised. 

“I’m secure enough in my masculinity to order wine when I want it, Dean,” Castiel says, feigned scolding in his voice.

“I know that. It’s just…” He bites his lip, quieting down as the server drops their drinks onto the table and leaves again. Castiel waits patiently, sipping his merlot and waiting for Dean to continue. “This whole, my dom-is-best-friend thing just fucks with my head, man. I see you sitting there, drinking wine and nerding out about honey, and I have no trouble acceptin’ that you’re Flyboy83. But all I can see is my dom, and all the sexy ass shit I associate with you, and it’s like…”

“You can’t put the two together?” Castiel finishes, and Dean nods, looking relieved. Castiel puts his wine glass down softly, reaching for Dean’s hand. The contact seems to reassure them both, exhaling in tandem. “I know exactly how you feel. Sometimes I feel like I know you completely, and other times, you’re a total mystery.”

“I shoulda known something was up,” Dean mutters, halfway to himself, it seems. “You were always conveniently busy whenever I was with my dom…you got me diet snacks for aftercare. Your dirty texting got me off so much, it’s like you knew all of my kinks before I said a word.” While Castiel considers all that, Dean’s eyes grow wide. “Fuck, dude, those boots. The picture you sent me that one time was blurry, but still…fuck.”

“Do you remember the—doctor scene we did?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods dimly, swallowing hard. “I remember thinking how odd it was that you knew your resting heart rate. I figured you must be in the medical field.”

“I thought the same when you took my pulse,” Dean breathes, seeming awed. He chuckles, shaking his head. “I was the fuck buddy you were seeing, right? You don’t have a third guy on the side?”

Castiel laughs softly. “No, Dean. For a long time it’s just been you, and, well… _you.”_

“Good. ‘Cause you’re not the only possessive one around here.” Dean squeezes his hand, then withdraws to grasp his whiskey glass with both hands.

“What makes you think I’m possessive?” Castiel’s tone is playful, because he already knows that, as a dom, he’s quite possessive. 

“Uh, do you remember how you acted around Benny and that Knight guy?” Dean snorts, though his eyes are filled with a warm sort of reverence. 

“Well, you were mine,” Castiel says flatly, as a matter of fact. Then he looks down, wondering if they’re ready to have this conversation yet. “ _Are_ mine. Though I suppose we should discuss if we plan to continue that element of our relationship, and under what circumstances.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Dean says breezily. He drops his voice down low, to a seductive whisper. “You still wanna be my master, don’t you?”

The word alone makes Castiel’s pulse quicken. _Master._ “There’s nothing I want more.”

“Well then…” Dean slides his leg forward, his foot nudging Castiel’s, rubbing their ankles against each other. “I’m yours.”

Castiel feels suddenly parched, and he downs the rest of his wine, trying not to get hard in the middle of this bar. Dean knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and flutters his eyelashes. 

“You like hearing that, Master?” he purrs, leaning forward even closer, knocking their knees together. “That I’m yours? That you can do anything you want to me? Anytime?”

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, voice quivering more than he’d care to admit. “Before we start scening again, we need to have…boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Dean repeats, though his foot is rubbing against Cas’ with even more intention now. 

“Yes. A separation between our romantic relationship, and our relationship as dom and sub.” Castiel’s proud he can even think this clearly, honestly, with Dean being this naughty to him in public. He wants very much to go to the car and teach him a lesson, but this is a _date_ , not a scene, and he has to keep a clear head. He’s about to open his mouth to say as much, when he hears his name being called from behind. He glances up, unable to stop from gaping with dread. 

“Hey there, baby bro,” Gabriel calls cheerily. Kali is next to him, looking slim in a form-fitting dress and smiling down at Castiel. “You must be on that date you called me about two days ago, totally freaking out.”

“I was not freaking out,” Castiel grumbles defensively. 

“Oh, leave him alone, Gabe,” Kali says pleasantly. “Who’s your friend, Cas?”

Castiel clears his throat, wishing he had more wine. “This is Dean. Dean, this is my brother Gabriel and his…” He isn’t quite sure what to call Kali, not now that the pair are standing so close together, arms brushing.

“Kali. Girlfriend, then ex-girlfriend, now girlfriend again,” Gabriel introduces proudly, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek until she squirms away. “Finally pulled my head outta my ass. Just like you, Cassie.”

Castiel glares at him, giving a panicked look in Dean’s direction. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, y’know, finally sealing the deal with your online bestie. Never woulda thought he wasn’t a secret creeper, though it’s only your first date, so the jury’s still out.”

Castiel gapes at his brother, absolutely mortified, but Dean chuckles kindly.

“My brother and his girlfriend thought the same thing at first,” Dean says. “Luckily, Cas brought me flowers and charmed the pants off of them.”

“Sounds like a real party,” Gabriel quips, and Dean laughs again. “Honestly, though, Cassie, where’d you get manners like that?"

“Certainly not from your big brother,” Kali chides with a smirk. Out of the blue, Dean excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Castiel nods in acknowledgment, watching him go and wondering the best potential plan for getting rid of his annoying older brother. 

“Glad I recommended this place,” Gabriel says conversationally, and Castiel bristles slightly.

“Yes, well, if I knew you frequented it often, I would’ve chosen another bar,” he says snippily. 

“Ouch,” Gabriel mutters. “Thanks a lot, bro.”

Castiel sighs. He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, but ignores it, figuring it’s just the text chain at work. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, but this is a big night for us. We’ve barely had any time alone to talk.”

His phone vibrates again, and he pulls it out of his pocket but doesn’t look at the screen. Maybe he can check his messages quickly, before Dean returns. He refuses to be that guy, glued to his screen during a date.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel waves him off dismissively. “I swear, though, that guy—”

“Dean,” Castiel corrects impatiently.

“Fine. _Dean_ looks familiar.” He tilts his head, frowning, and Castiel takes the momentary reprieve to check his messages. Surprisingly, it’s his Signal app…and even more surprisingly, the messages are all from Dean.

Medic67 6:11 PM << **have i told you how hot you look tonight**

Medic67 6:12 PM << **im just imagining all the things you could be doing to me in this bathroom**

Medic67 6:12 PM << **even wore these for you, master**

Medic67 6:12 PM << **{picture uploaded}**

Castiel’s brain short circuits for a minute. Dean has sent him…a photo of him right this second, in the bathroom stall. His jeans are down to his ankles, and he’s wearing a pair of pink satin panties, ruffles around the edges. Castiel’s eyes widen, his heart racing to a dangerous level, mouth-watering. 

Kali asks, “Castiel, are you feeling okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts, staring at the photo longer than he should since he’s—in public—talking to his brother. Oh god. He locks his screen and flips it down, resisting the temptation to pull the photo back up again.

“You really are nervous, huh?” Gabriel comments, sounding slightly more sympathetic now. Kali excuses herself to grab them drinks, waiting for bar stools to become available, and Dean weaves his way back through all the tables, sliding into the booth across from Castiel with a pleasant smile on his face. 

“You okay, Cas?” he asks, batting his eyelashes. Castiel glowers at him, fumbling for his wallet. 

“I think it’s time for us to head to our next stop,” he says noncommittally, throwing thirty dollars cash onto the table, ready to bolt. Just as they’re standing up, though, Gabriel snaps his fingers in Dean’s direction.

“Aha, I finally remembered where I’ve seen you before,” he says triumphantly. “The Black and Blue.” His voice lowers, and Castiel thinks he’s about two seconds from having a legitimate heart attack. Dean’s previous mischief slides off his face, replaced with utter horror.  “Went through a rough time during the breakup, tried all sorts of crazy shit. I saw you at the B&B once, last year, at the bar. Guys were swarming ‘round you, but you’re not my type, sorry.” 

Gabriel is grinning casually, but Dean and Castiel are wearing matching expressions of dismay. 

“I, uh…” Dean swallows, scratching the back of his neck. He looks up at Castiel, thunderstruck. “Cas…?”

“Judging by your face, Cassie, I’d say you know about your new boyfriend’s sexy little secret? Maybe even like it?” He winks, and Kali returns holding their drinks, so he takes a large swallow. “Never knew you had it in you, baby bro. Good for you.”

“Had what in him?” Kali asks, interest piqued, but Castiel practically shouts, “Nothing, nothing, we really must be going. We have dinner reservations.”

“That’s too bad—” Kali has barely gotten the words out before Castiel has grabbed Dean by the wrist, hauling him outside with a sudden fierceness that takes them both by surprise.

“Cas, Cas, slow down,” Dean says, gripping him tightly back, “there are better ways to manhandle me, y’know.” 

“Sorry,” Castiel says apologetically, dropping his grip. They’re already halfway to his parked car, even though it’s over a block away. “I’m just…”

“Yeah, that was…” Dean sighs. “Pretty fucked up.”

“An understatement,” Castiel replies miserably.

“But hey, at least he was cool about it,” Dean says reasonably, hand sliding on Castiel’s shoulder. “He’s gotta be like, the least judgmental person ever.” 

“Only because he’s tried everything, not once, but _twice_ , so he has no room to talk,” Castiel says, though chuckles lightly, trying to shake his initial panic. So, his brother likely knows that he and Dean are in a BDSM relationship. As long as Gabriel can keep it a secret, is that really so bad? His brother was intrigued by it enough to visit the club before, so even if Castiel doesn’t feel comfortable confiding in him, at least he’s not going to feel condemned. “Maybe this isn’t so terrible.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, though he sounds uncertain. “It is pretty damn mortifying, though. I don’t want your brother to think I’m like…slutty.”

Castiel’s dom side stirs slightly at the wording, wishing very much to lean in and make an innuendo, but he’s too shaken up by the events of the last fifteen minutes to make such a move. “He won’t, I promise you. Especially not Gabriel. Did I tell you he did a porno once?”

Dean laughs incredulously. “Fuck, no, you didn’t. That’s…wow.”

“I know,” Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. “He bought everyone a copy one year at Christmas.” They’ve finally reached the car, and they settle into their seats quickly. But Castiel still feeling strangely vulnerable. Truth is, he feels sort of off-kilter right now. Nothing is going quite as he expected this evening, and while it’s certainly been interesting, it’s not the romantic vision he had in his head. 

“Where to now?” Dean asks casually. “Do we really have dinner reservations?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, but tilts his head, thinking. Then a broad grin spreads onto his face. “Sadly, though, we’ll need to cancel. Sending me that photo was quite naughty of you, wasn’t it?”

Dean exhales shakily. “It was your payback,” he explains, voice raspy.

“It was beautiful payback, and a photo I’ll cherish.” Castiel backs the car up and heads towards the highway. “But if you’re going to act childish, Dean, I don’t think the restaurant I had in mind will do for tonight.” 

“Uh…” Dean looks uncertain now, so Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing to let him know he’s not really angry. More intrigued. “Couldn’t you just put me on your knee and spank me?” 

Castiel fights the urge to chuckle, though Dean means it with complete sincerity. 

“Now Dean,” he purrs quietly, “when have I ever given you exactly what you wanted?” 

***

Dean wants to scowl. Hell, he wants to pout. He’s dying to feel Castiel’s hands on him, calming and reassuring and hot as fucking hell. If he’s being honest, he’s felt off his game all night. Not sure what he’s supposed to be, who he’s supposed to be. Not right now. He just wants something familiar to ground him, and apparently that means trying to tease his dom. He wonders absently how this date would be going if they had never met at the Black & Blue club. If he saw Castiel’s face for the first time on this date without knowing anything about him, aside from what he knows about FlyBoy83. Dean thinks he wouldn’t have been pushing this line between them so hard, if that’d been the case.

Castiel is quiet as he drives across town, staring out the window with a look of concentration. Dean knows that look—it’s the look his dom wears when he’s changing tactics, adjusting his plan. He wants to find it soothing. Castiel taking charge is exactly what Dean was trying to provoke. But something doesn sit right, and he fidgets in his seat, looking out the window. He feels like he’s fucking this whole night up already. He thinks about meeting Castiel’s brother, and the fact he’s spotted Dean before at the club. He can’t believe that actually happened…though luckily, Castiel seemed okay with it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Castiel asks, and stretches a hand out to Dean across the worn leather seat.

Dean takes the hand giving it a squeeze. “Sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to push things too much tonight. I think I’m more comfortable dealing with you as my dom than my friend sometimes.”

Castiel gives his hand a firm squeeze in return. “I would like to be both things, Dean. I want to try and be all that you need. I understand the impulse, though.”

“You do?” He looks over at Cas now, watching his face as he picks his words.

“I do. I’ve never been in a romantic relationship—dating isn’t something I’m used to. I think it’s probably not surprising we both want to revert back to the kind of relationship we both understand the best.” Dean nods, feeling ten times better knowing Castiel feels that way too. “I have a suggestion.”

“Shoot,” he says back easily, willing to try anything to make this work.

“I think that ‘Master’ and ‘Pet’ should be reserved for a designated scene when we both agree to it and are ready for it. That anything that happens outside of a scene, that happens between just us, won’t affect the dynamic. What do you think?” Castiel eyes glance his way briefly before returning to the road.

“I really like that idea…though, I dunno if I’ll be able to resist teasing you.” Dean gives him a crooked smile.

Castiel shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s no reason why you can’t flirt with me all you want outside a scene. I believe that’s still fairly customary for happy, romantic relationships.”

Dean laughs at that. “Dude, that is the most unsexy way to say that. How can you be so awesome and terrible at dirty talk at the same time?”

“Mystery of the universe,” Castiel answers, raising Dean’s hand to his lips and kissing the back of his knuckles. It’s a small gesture but it takes Dean’s breath away. He feels infinitely better knowing he can just be himself and not worry about being a good sub for his master.

They pull up to Kimball Farm and Dean’s eyes widen with shock. He hasn’t been out here in ages and had forgotten all about it. Last time he was here, it was just a small ice-cream stand with mini golf. Now there’s a driving range, batting cages, bumper boats, food stands, candy store, and a pitch and putt. 

“No way!” Dean can’t help but exclaim. Castiel smiles a wide, toothy grin at him as he parks and Dean all but fumbles for the door, bouncing on his feet as he waits for Castiel to get out of the car. “Come on, hurry up! I call the blue ball,” he states, jonesing to get over to the mini golf before all the good clubs are taken.

“I call the green, then,” Castiel replies, walking up to him and holding out his hand again. Dean happily takes it as they head over the wooden bridge toward the mini golf. A bored looking teenager hands them their clubs, which Dean insists on paying for. He breathes in the cool evening air as he sets up his first putt. He hits it too hard, watching as the ball ricochets off the walls and bounces behind a fake rock. He suddenly remembers just how terrible he is at mini golf and how Sam always used to beat him at it, even as a kid.

Castiel steps up, taking an even and precise swing. Dean watches as the ball rolls right for the hole, settling only a few inches away. Dean groans, slapping a hand over his forehead. 

“Come on, it’s just the first swing,” Castiel says encouragingly. 

Dean continues to take several swings to get his ball in the first few holes before he decides that, if he isn’t going to win this game, then he can entertain himself other ways. On the fourth hole he widens his stance a bit, sticking out his ass and wiggling it back and forth. He can hear the intake of breath behind him. Jackpot. “I can’t seem to get my stance right, can you help me?” he asks as innocently as he can, still staring down at his ball.

He feels Castiel pressing up behind him, arms coming around his sides and fingers interlacing over his on the club. Hot breath against the back of neck makes him shiver. “Just relax your stance, you're too tense. Keep your eyes down,” Castiel whispers, in that low rumble of his, and Dean feels like he turns to jelly in his arms. Castiel pulls their hands back and taps the ball. Dean watches as it rolls around the hill and right into the hole at the other end.

“You jerk! Do you have a golfing habit I don’t know about?” Dean momentarily forgets the goal of flirting in place of self-righteous indignation.

Castiel chuckles. “Gabriel took me mini golfing a lot as a kid. He loved the ice-cream and I loved the game.” Castiel lets him go and shrugs a little.

Dean turns to face him, stepping up into his space. “You really like to win, don’t you?”

“I’m…competitive by nature, yes,” Castiel answers carefully.

Dean steps in even closer, letting the group behind them play through. “You up for a little wager, Novak?”

“What are you proposing?” Castiel narrows his eyes cautiously.

“If you can win this round of mini golf, I’ll let you fuck me,” Dean whispers low, so no one can hear him but Castiel. He loves watching the man’s body tense up.

“I thought you didn’t put out on the first date?” Castiel raises a suspicious brow.

“I don’t…that’s why I plan to win,” he smiles cheekily at Cas, stepping back slightly and spreading his arms out in challenge.

“There are easier ways to get me to do that, Dean. I know how pretty you beg,” Cas whispers back, and fuck if that doesn’t get Dean half-hard in his jeans.

“If I win, you have to blow me,” Dean retorts, with an eyebrow wiggle of his own. He figures this bet is a win-win for him either way.

Castiel eyes him for a moment, considering his options. “You have a deal, Winchester.”

Dean grins as he swipes up his ball and they move to the next hole. He really concentrates now, loosening his grip on the club and gives it a gentle tap. It rolls within a few inches of the hole, and he tries and fails to hide his smug expression. Dean puts his next part of the plan into action—moving to the end of the green and standing right in Castiel’s view. He slowly begins to slide his hand up and down the handle of the club, spinning a finger on the top before stroking back down. He tips his head down, watching Castiel from the corner of his eye. The man is staring at his hand like he’s mesmerized by the motion.

“You gotta hit the ball, Novak,” he calls, grinning innocently to himself. He really can be a little shit. Castiel narrows his eyes, obviously on to him. He watches Castiel’s ball bounces off the mark and almost ends up in the water. Afterwards, Dean lightly taps his ball in, thinking he might just stand a chance.

He spends the next few holes doing his damndest to distract Castiel off his game, and actually manages to win a few of them. They are within three strokes of each other as they come to the last hole. Dean swings and gets his first hole-in-one of the night, jumping in the air and whooping at the top of his lungs. Eventually he turns, nervous that he might find an angry dom glaring at him, but all he sees is a warm, happy smile on Castiel’s face. Looking at him in that moment, Dean sees his friend—really sees FlyBoy83, laughing at his antics, happy just because he’s happy. He blushes a little at the thought, and stands out of the way for Castiel to set up.

Castiel stands, considering the ball a moment. Then he looks up at Dean, seeming to be debating something. He finally takes his swing, and it’s way off the mark, missing the hole. Dean frowns, wondering what Cas is up to. He watches as Castiel misses the next swing, too. If he sinks the ball in now, they tie, and if he misses then Dean wins. Dean hadn’t actually expected to win…if anything, he was just looking for an excuse to break his “no putting out on the first date” rule.

Castiel taps his ball and it rolls around the rim and pops out. Dean’s jaw all but hangs open. Cas missed… Holy crap. He looks at Castiel, who simply shrugs before tapping the ball into the hole and ending the game.

“Congratulations, Dean.” He smiles at him, looking completely serene.

“Uh, yeah. I gotta admit…I wasn’t expecting that,” he answers honestly, and Castiel chuckles.

“Come on, let’s get some food and ice-cream.” Cas tips his head toward the food stands and Dean hustles up next to him.

“You know, you don’t actually have to do _that._ Right?” he whispers as they wait in line for food. 

“Of course I know that, but thank you for saying it anyways. I am quite capable of holding up my end of the bargain. Just be careful what you wish for.” With that ominous promise, Castiel moves forward to order himself a lobster roll, and some fries and a burger for Dean. They eat their food at a picnic table and chat about their brothers and work. They debate whether or not Sherlock and Watson were in a romantic relationship, and move on to whether Kelly’s or Nick’s has the best roast beef sandwich. They grab ice-cream cones, Castiel getting raspberry chocolate chip while Dean sticks with a classic cookie dough.

He can’t help but watch the way Castiel licks his ice-cream, swirling his pink tongue around the top and running it over his lips to catch any stray drips. Its sexy as hell, and Dean makes sure to put on his own show when Castiel glances up at him. They finish their ice-cream and hold hands again, heading back to the car. He begins to vibrate in anticipation for what might actually happen tonight. It’s dark out now as they drive toward home, and Dean listens as Castiel tells a story from one of his first calls on the truck.

He doesn’t notice when Castiel pulls off toward a parking lot near some conservation land. It’s dark out—the moon hidden behind the clouds, with no other cars around. His heart rate picks up a few notches, and he can swear Castiel must be able to hear it thumping in his chest.

Castiel shuts off the car and turns in his seat, the faint light from outside casting a blue light across his face. Dean thinks Castiel might be the most handsome man he’s ever seen, eyes pitch black in the dark space of the car.

“May I touch you?” Castiel asks softly. Dean can only nod as Castiel slides towards him. His hand rises up to cup Dean’s face, and he hovers there for a second, mere inches apart. “This isn’t a scene. This is just us, okay? If you want me to stop just say so.”

“I’m not gonna want you to stop,” Dean huffs out, since he’s pretty sure he won’t ever want that. Castiel smiles as he dips in, capturing Dean’s mouth in a kiss. Dean gives in to the kiss, letting Castiel lead, an unhurried give and take. A hand skids outside his shirt, till he’s cupping Dean’s pec, running a thumb over a nipple that is hardening quickly. Without any conscious control his legs fall open, parting to make way for Castiel as he slowly crawls over him. He feels drunk off one kiss, lost in the sensation of it, and lets his worries slip away as he feels this man above him.

He whines as Castiel teases and pulls at his nipple through his shirt, body rolling and hips bucking up, looking for contact. His jeans are getting tighter and more uncomfortable by the minute, and Castiel just keeps kissing him, running his hands over him in light touches that are driving him mad. He tries to kiss back harder, nipping at Castiel’s lip and trying to nuzzle towards his neck. He wants Castiel, and he wants all of him now. But a firm hand on his chest keeps him in place as he struggles for more. 

“Patience, Dean,” Castiel whispers, as he pulls back and places a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Come on. Please, Cas?” he sighs, back arching off the seat as Castiel pinches at his hard nub.

“So sensitive, so responsive. No one has ever opened up as beautifully for me as you do, Dean. Lie back for me, baby.” Castiel’s sweet endearment almost makes him melt into a puddle right there. Cas pulls back a bit and grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt, pulling it up over his head and leaving it tangled around his shoulders, effectively holding his hands back. Dean loves the feel of it…even if he could pull out of the shirt at any moment, the illusion of being held back makes him rock hard.

Castiel hums happily as he lowers his mouth to Dean’s chest, mouthing at the skin, licking and sucking and biting, making every nerve tingle and sing. Dean feels fingers at his jeans, unbuckling them, the long draw of the zipper echoing in the car. He leans his head back against the window, bracing on his hands behind him and groaning as Castiel bites down on his chest just a little harder right as his hand slides over his panties. He nearly cries out at the firm grip around his cock.

“Leaking all over these pretty pink panties. So beautiful,” Castiel hums against his chest, moving down and sliding back in the seat till his face hovers over Dean’s pink, satin trapped cock. Castiel licks a long swipe up his cock and Dean shivers at the light touch.

“Cas, please I…please,” he begs, needing more, needing that mouth around him _yesterday_. Castiel grins and mouths at his cock, hands on either side of his hips, holding him down. He can’t take his eyes off the man as he licks and kisses up and down his shaft. It feels amazing but not nearly enough. Castiel finally moves his hands, pulling the panties down just enough to free his cock to open air. Castiel looks up at him in the dark of the car, licks his lips and proceeds to swallow him down.

Dean can hardly think straight as Castiel pulls out all the stops. He wants to reach his hands into Castiel’s hair and fuck up into that warm mouth, but with his shirt restricting his movements, he can’t. He just sits back and lets Castiel completely undo him. He feels it building now, his orgasm hair's breadth away, and he keens lightly, trying to warn him. Castiel reaches a hand around the base of his cock and grips hard, pulling off with a pop.

“Fuck!” Dean cries out as his orgasm is pushed back. Castiel holds him firmly as he squirms under him, breathing  till he can think straight again. Castiel grins wolfishly at him as Dean pants, trying to catch his breath from his delayed orgasm. He suddenly sees what game Castiel is playing, sees the question in his eyes. He nods, thinking… _bring it on_. Castiel wraps his lips around him again and brings him near the brink two more times before stopping his ministrations. By the end of it, Dean is blissed out, head swimming in the euphoria of it.

“I want you to come for me, baby,” Castiel whispers, voice husky and fucked out. Dean can only nod, unable to form words. This time as his orgasm builds, he leans back, head tipped against the window. He cries out as Castiel swallows him down, tipping him over the edge. He comes hard, bucking up in jerky little movements and letting it all go. Utterly drained, his eyes shut a moment as he tries to catch his breath.

Lips press to his and he opens to it, tasting himself now, salty and sexy and hot as fuck. They kiss lazily for a few moments before Castiel helps pull Deans shirt back down, freeing his arms. He immediately wraps them around Castiel’s shoulders, sinking down and pulling the man on top of him. He loves the warm chuckle Castiel gives as Dean eagerly kisses him, wraps him up tight in his arms. He never wants to let this man go…the way he makes him feel so wanted and important.

Castiel pushes up on his elbows now, staring down at him. It’s so dark that Dean can barely make out his features. He’s never seen a look like that before and it makes his throat feel tight and skin prickle under the stare. Castiel reaches out one hand to his face and Dean turns, kissing his palm and looking back up at him. A thumb brushes his cheek as Castiel smiles at him. 

“I love you, Dean,” he whispers out, the words seeming to fill up all the empty spaces within him. Looking up into those eyes, he knows the undeniable truth now… Dean Winchester is loved, and he’s going to love this man right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Not so sore loser, embarrassing siblings


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CB: So, should you tell them or should I?
> 
> TCBaby: I would say you, but since we’ve unofficially assumed the POVs we write, it would be up to dom!Cas to break the news, right?
> 
> CB: Yeah, the sub!Dean in me doesn’t do well with expressing these kinds of things lol
> 
> TCBaby: Haha, fair enough. Okay so, bad news first: this is the final chapter. 
> 
> CB: dun dun dun duuuuuhhhh…. Sorry bratty sub moment, continue on.
> 
> TCBaby: Man, do I love you and your bratty sub self. Never change. 
> 
> TCBaby: Do you wanna tell them the GOOD news though? 
> 
> CB: Hell yes I do! We are giving you just under 10K words for this final monster chapter!
> 
> CB: AND… wait for it… wait for it… we have ART! It's added into Chapter 3.
> 
> TCBaby: Oh yeah, CB and I bid on art from the lovely Gio and won some truly hot and explicit stuff. Like everything we do, y’all, the art is NSFW. You’ve been warned. ;)
> 
> CB: It is truly colorful and so fun to share with you guys.
> 
> CB: No one likes endings, but all good things come to an end and all that. (She says while considering a sequel just so she can continue to write with her bestie.) Still, in this final chapter, we hope we hit all the right notes you were looking for.
> 
> TCBaby: Oh yeah, this has been one of the hardest fics to say goodbye to, largely because of my amazing coauthor and our incredible readers. But this isn’t the last you’ve seen of this duo…that we can guarantee. <3 
> 
> CB: Awww it kinda feels like we are at the end of our contract. Time to renew up, bestie! Does forever work for you?
> 
> TCBaby: Forever totally works. I wouldn’t ask for a single second less. 
> 
> CB: Well then, this isn’t really goodbye dear readers, it’s just a “see you soon.”
> 
> TCBaby: Definitely. Be good for us in the meantime…dom!Cas requires it! 
> 
> CB: And sub!Dean will set the example. Till next time. Enjoy!

Castiel hums and shifts slightly in his sleep. In the back of his mind, he knows something is…strange. He’s on the couch, not in his bed, and there’s a solid sort of warmth beside him. The conscious part of his brain knows it must be Dean, and he snuggles in closer, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Dean’s head is nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and Castiel sighs contentedly…

Then his eyelids flutter open.

His apartment is dark, darker than it should be. All the lamps they had turned on this afternoon—to keep them awake during their movie marathon—are mysteriously shut off. Not only that, the clock on his microwave is blank and the whirling sound of the DVD player is strangely absent. 

“Dean,” Castiel says softly, shaking him awake. He stretches and Dean stirs beneath him, yawning loudly and mumbling something into Castiel’s t-shirt.

“Five more minutes,” Dean mumbles sleepily.  

“Dean,” Castiel says again, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I think the power’s off.”

“What?” Dean slurs, yawning again. Despite Castiel’s sense of panic and curiosity, he draws Dean in and kisses his forehead. His boyfriend is way too adorable for his own good. Wow, that’s a new word. _Boyfriend._ It sends a shiver up Castiel’s spine. 

“I said, I think the power is—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” Dean reaches forward, searching for his phone. His skin is sleepy warm, his neck a little sweaty, and Castiel is tempted to just fall back asleep in each other’s arms. It’s starting to become too hot for that, though. The air conditioning must be off. “Weather alert. Looks like a storm threw out a bunch of power lines… Sam said half the city’s in a black-out.”

“How long?” Castiel asks, and Dean only blinks, not following his train of thought. “I mean, how long has the power been off?”

“Well, it was light outside when I closed my eyes, and now…” Dean peers through the window, the balcony window black with night. “Probably a few hours.” He shrugs, as if it doesn’t make much difference. 

“I can’t believe we fell asleep during _Goldfinger_ ,” Dean complains, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I can’t believe you made me endure a James Bond movie marathon when I don’t even like James Bond,” Castiel grumbles back, though he’s smiling all the same. 

“Whaddya mean, you don’t like James Bond? You watched four of them today!” Dean’s voice is light and playful, and he’s nudging Castiel in the side. “‘Sides, only twenty-two more movies to go…” 

Castiel groans dramatically, though in truth, he’ll endure a variety of action blockbusters if it means spending more time with Dean. It’s very likely that this will be his future…sitting together, bantering and bickering.The thought shouldn’t elate him this much, but it does. “Well, before you tie me to the couch and torture me with more of these—”

“Didn’t know you wanted to be on the receiving end of torture, Cas, but that can definitely be arranged,” Dean says flirtatiously, swinging a leg over Castiel’s lap. Castiel’s tempted to surge up, to brush their lips together and say something enticing. But they’ve only been officially dating for two weeks, and even though things have been amazing, and Castiel is so in love he can barely stand it, he doesn’t want to rush anything. They’ve traded blow jobs and hand jobs, showered together, and have made out like teenagers on every available surface, but they haven’t had sex since their last scene at the club. Having sex as dom and sub is one thing, but as a couple, committed and in love? 

Well, Cas doesn’t want to rush and jeopardize a relationship that’s so incredibly important to him.

“Tempting, but we should really decide what we’re going to do for dinner now that…” 

“Now that—what?” Dean echoes suspiciously. “I’ve had steaks marinating in the fridge all…day…oh, shit.” Dean lifts himself from Cas’ lap and stumbles into the unlit kitchen. He throws open the refrigerator door, as if the light will somehow be on and the interior still chilled. 

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles, dropping the glass bowl of ribeyes on the counter with a clink. “You sure we can’t salvage them?”

“It’s been hours,” Castiel says reasonably, with a frown. “I wouldn’t chance it.”

“But these are fourteen-dollar steaks!” 

Castiel comes behind Dean, placing a soothing kiss on the back of his neck. “It’s okay, babe.”

“No, it’s not,” Dean retorts stubbornly. “I really wanted to cook for you. I was going to make a whiskey reduction sauce with brown sugar, and mashed potatoes, and even a salad because you’re a health freak and you like that kind of crap—”

Castiel chuckles and spins Dean around, one hand on his hip and the other cupping his jaw. “That sounds like it would’ve been amazing. But you know what’s even more amazing?” 

“Working electricity?” Dean says grumpily. 

“You,” Castiel whispers, kissing his nose lightly. It’s too dark to see, but if Cas had to bet, there’s a good chance Dean has begun to blush. “Thank you for putting the effort in. I’m sorry your plans got ruined.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean sighs, shaking his head ruefully. “I still got to spend the day with you, s’not a total loss.”

Castiel kisses him, chaste and long and sweet. 

“The night isn’t over yet,” he whispers, giving him one more kiss before using his cellphone as a flashlight, rummaging around his kitchen drawers until he locates a box of matches. They begin to gather candles—from the dining room and living room and bedroom—and Dean scatters them around, Castiel coming behind to light them. Pretty soon, Cas’ apartment is a glowing fire hazard, albeit a romantic one. The sound of rain is suddenly pounding on the roof, and in the glow of candlelight, Dean is smirking.

“What?” Castiel asks, eyeing him curiously. 

“I just remembered…” Dean walks to the dining room table, coming back and unveiling a paper brown sack. Inside he presents a pie, the crust golden brown and wrapped in saran wrap. “We may not have steaks, but at least we’ve got _pie_.”

Castiel laughs and pulls the coffee table against the wall, laying a large quilt on the carpet. It’s getting stiflingly hot, the outside rain making the heat inside feel even more muggy, and they strip down into their t-shirts and boxers. Sitting cross-legged, feeding each other fork-fulls of apple cinnamon filling, Cas sighs contentedly. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t approve of pie for dinner, but the only thing sweeter than this pie is Dean’s company. When he tells Dean as much, his boyfriend rolls his eyes and complains about Castiel’s cheesy one-liners, but smiles even broader than before. Castiel’s heart is practically bursting at the seams. There’s no one he’d rather be stuck in a dark, stuffy apartment with.  

Once their bellies are full, Castiel checks the watch on his wrist—it’s barely eight o’clock. He goes into his closet, searching for an activity that doesn’t require much light or electricity, and comes back with a tattered Monopoly box.

“How about it, Winchester?” Cas calls, shuffling the contents around. “Considering how competitive we both are, I’m sure this’ll end well…”

Dean snorts. “You’re on, long as I’m the banker.”

“Fine,” Castiel concedes with a grin. “But you should know, I’m a very unforgiving landlord.”

*** 

Three and a half hours later, the power still isn’t on and Dean seems to be on the verge of flipping the game board. 

“You definitely cheated,” he declares for the tenth time. 

“How could I cheat? You’re literally the banker!” Castiel retorts, feeling lighthearted and smug from his recent win. Dean had put up a good fight, but Castiel had been victorious in the end. After spending his adolescent years playing vicious rounds with Gabriel, he’s learned the key is avoiding the utility properties and snatching up all the railroads…not that he’d ever tell Dean his strategy. Of course. 

“You must’ve skimmed some cash off the top when I wasn’t looking,” Dean accuses, though there’s little heat in his words. 

“You know, Dean, being a sore loser isn’t a good look on anyone…though you’re gorgeous enough to pull it off,” Castiel says charmingly, gathering up all the stray bills and game pieces. Dean rolls his eyes but looks pleased.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers dismissively, blushing and folding the game board up. “So, what now, cheater?”

“Well, I would say strip poker, but…” Castiel chuckles at their state of partial undress. They’re still only in their boxers and t-shirts—it’s much too warm for anything else. “We wouldn’t last long.”

“Hmm, and what’s the problem with that?” Dean grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Though, I’ve always known you to last _very_ long…”

“Dean,” Castiel says, chuckling. “You do love to tease me, don’t you?”

“And you love to see me beg,” Dean flirts back, voice low and tantalizing. He wraps his hand around the back of Castiel’s neck, fingers brushing his hair, and Castiel is soothed by the feeling almost instantly. He pushes the game box to the side, then lays horizontal on the quilt, shifting Dean beside him until his head is on Castiel’s chest. 

“Well, even if you are a big ol’ cheater,” Dean mumbles, pulling in closer, “you’re a very comfy one.”

Castiel smiles a wide, goofy smile, though Dean can’t see it. “You sound sleepy.”

“Sleepy?” Dean’s voice is full of feigned defensiveness. “Hell no. We napped for like, three hours today. You’re just gonna have to find another way to wear me out.”

His hand grazes the bottom of Castiel’s tight t-shirt, stroking his flat stomach and happy trail, and Castiel tries not to shiver. 

“Truth or dare,” Castiel says, seemingly out of nowhere, and Dean groans. 

“Cas,” he complains, dragging out the vowel impatiently, “no fucking way. This is not some seventh grade sleepover.”

“Truth or dare,” Cas repeats flatly, as if Dean hasn’t even spoken. 

His boyfriend sighs and says, “Dare.”

“Hmm…” Castiel rubs Dean’s back with his free hand, the t-shirt material clinging to every curve in his back. 

“Seriously? You make me play and don’t even have questions ready?” 

“Dares aren’t questions, Dean, they’re commands,” Castiel corrects, and he can practically feel Dean’s eyes rolling. 

“Oh, my god,” Dean sighs, and they both begin to chuckle. “You’re infuriating.” 

“Oh, I’ve got one,” Cas says excitedly. “I dare you to do a cartwheel.”

“Uh, nope. These feet stay on the ground. Couldn’t you have dared me to do something easy…like, I dunno, blow you?”

Castiel squirms, hyper-aware of how close Dean’s hand is traveling towards his cock. “Dean, the point is to dare you to do something you don’t _already_ want to do.”

“Fuck you,” Dean laughs, rising off the ground. Castiel slaps his ass playfully as he goes. After a few moments of finagling, Dean gets a running start and stretches his arms out, tips over, and…immediately tumbles to the floor. Castiel sputters, unable to hold back his laughter, and Dean shoots him the bird as he crawls back over to his spot on the quilt. 

“Yeah, yeah, never said I was a gymnast,” Dean gripes, falling back into Castiel’s arms. “Okay, same question.”

“Truth,” Castiel says easily. 

“Shoulda known.” Dean squeezes Cas’ side. “Uh…what’s your most embarrassing moment?”

Castiel tilts his head, considering. “You know, for years it was the time Gabriel stole my swim trunks at the eighth grade pool party, when they fell off after a dive—”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. It was mortifying. But now, it might be…being on a first date with a guy I’m trying very hard to impress, and then, having my brother know…”

“That your date likes being spanked before, during, and after sex?” 

“Something like that,” Castiel teases, running a hand through Dean’s hair. “Though that’s not his best quality.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” Castiel grins, kissing Dean’s forehead. “It seems I love his personality and his heart even more than his perky little ass. Though that ass does turn a beautiful shade of red…”

Castiel feels his cock twitch slightly, thinking of all the times Dean was at his mercy, and he realizes it’s been far too long since he’s let his dom side out. When he looks down, Dean has planted himself on his elbows, looking scandalized. 

“You’re getting hard just thinking about spanking me,” he says victoriously, and Castiel flushes, avoiding his eyes. “Admit it.”

“Dean—”

“Admit you wanna bend me over right now and—”

“Of course I do,” Castiel interrupts. There’s an edge to his voice and he doesn’t quite know where it came from. Normally he loves being teased by Dean, loves all their banter and flirting, but at the moment it has him all worked up. He doesn’t want to push things with Dean, doesn’t want to propel their romantic relationship into sexual territory just because it’s easy.

Dean eyes him warily, head falling back down onto his chest. “Truth or dare, Cas.”

“I just went,” Castiel mumbles. 

“Well, tough shit. Go again.” Dean sighs, raising himself up and straddling Castiel’s thigh. The weight of him feels amazing, solid and enticing, and he leans in close. “I’ll pick for you then. Truth,” he whispers decisively. “Cas, is there a reason you’re scared to have sex with me?”

Castiel’s entire mouth goes dry. “No, that’s ridiculous. I’ve had you a dozen times—”

“Nope, you’ve had the sub and I’ve had the dom. And those times were fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong. But we’ve never done this as…you and me. Cas and Dean.” Dean exhales shakily, then plants a kiss on Castiel’s neck. Then another. “C’mon, Cas, I want you. Not a persona, not a dom, not a scene. Just you.”

He kisses with more vigor then, sucking into a pulse point in Castiel’s neck. Cas moans quietly, feeling overwhelmed—emotional, turned on, vulnerable. “I want you, too. I want you so badly.” His hands, which had been trapped at his side, come up Dean’s back, slipping under his t-shirt. The feeling of Dean’s skin is wonderful—soft and warm. 

“I just want our first time as a couple to be special, to mean something,” Castiel admits.

“Being with you is always special, and always means something,” Dean replies, wetting his lips and dragging them over Castiel’s neck. “Cas, man, we literally fell in love in a sex club that’s supposed to be all about sex. We weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but we did.”

“That’s true,” Castiel concedes softly. “But—”

“Cas…” Dean pulls back a little, looking nervous and ruffled. “If you really think we aren’t ready, then I’ll stop and we can play Candy Land until two in the morning. No more funny business. Scout’s honor.” He exhales out forcefully, shoulders shaking. 

“And you would…be okay with that?” Castiel asks. 

“Yep,” Dean mutters, looking resigned but accepting. He stretches up until they’re no longer chest to chest. “Okay, moving on. I call the green—”

Dean never finishes his sentence, though, because Castiel is suddenly kissing him. Dean moans at the impact, their lips smashed together forcefully. It’s not their best kiss but it’s certainly their most passionate, and it reminds Castiel of all stolen kisses they engaged, first in aftercare and then, eventually, in scenes. In one fluid motion he flips them roughly, the exact amount of manhandling that Dean loves. He shoves his thigh between Dean’s parted kneecaps, rutting against Dean’s half-hard cock and peppering his neck and chin with kisses. He kisses everywhere he can, bites his earlobe, returning to Dean’s mouth long enough to wet his lips and slip his tongue inside.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says in a garbled voice, after they’ve been making out for what feels like hours. “When you _commit_ …”

Castiel sinks down to Dean’s chest, but finds it annoyingly covered in clothing. He lifts Dean to a sitting position, their hard cocks brushing each other indirectly, and Dean’s breath gets caught in his throat.  

“Cas,” he whispers, voice heavy with need, and Cas only nods. 

“I have you, baby, I promise.” He shakily stands up, pulling Dean up beside him by the hand. In the dim candlelight, the path to Castiel’s bedroom is obscured, and Dean’s knee hits the wall at least twice before they both laugh. The intensity of their need has diminished a little by the time they’re finally at Cas’ bed, laughing softly and talking in whispers. Thankfully, they have a cluster of tall candles keeping their bodies lit. Cas’ motions are less hot-blooded and more deliberate now…though part of him likes that just fine. 

Right now, fumbling with the bottom of Dean’s shirt and stripping him of his boxers, lightly kissing him, listening to his sighs of contentment…it feels more genuine than any sex he’s had in a long time. 

Less dom and more Cas.

He takes Dean’s hard and leaking cock into his hand, pumping it a few times, thumbing lazily at the head. Dean shudders. “Wanna see you,” he whispers, clinging to Castiel’s shoulder. “Never…seen all of you…Jesus, you’re good at that. You seriously gotta stop or I’m gonna come.”

Castiel does as Dean wishes, dropping his hand slowly and letting his boyfriend peel off his remaining clothes. Once both of their clothes are lying in a heap at their feet, he asks, “You’ve really never seen me…?”

“Shirtless a few times. And obviously I remember this guy.” Dean looks down at Castiel’s cock appreciatively, flashing him a toothy grin. “But never the full picture. Must be some sort of dom rule.”

He chuckles at his own joke, then surprises them both by taking the lead for a moment, stepping into Castiel’s space and leaving a trail of wet kisses on his collarbone. His hands travel everywhere—back, abdomen, thighs, sweeping every inch of Cas’ skin, paying special attention to the parts of Cas he’s never seen before.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Dean whispers. “And maybe the best person I’ve ever met, too. I can’t believe I get this. Get you.”

Castiel cups his hands around Dean’s chin, drawing their lips together. Dean’s tongue searches his mouth almost instantly, and Castiel sucks sweetly on the tip, hands on Dean’s hips as he pushes him backwards. He falls into the mattress, Castiel following greedily, and Dean writhes impatiently underneath him, hands tangling into Cas’ hair with desperate tugs as they kiss.

“On your knees,” Castiel says breathlessly, forcing himself to pull away before they accidentally end up coming. Dean practically scrambles to position, likely anticipating Castiel’s fingers and, soon enough, his cock. Castiel chuckles at the enthusiasm, knowing he wants Dean just as badly as Dean wants him. Maybe more.

He parts Dean’s ass cheeks, gripping each of them firmly, and flattens his tongue. He licks, wet and sloppy, over Dean’s hole, and his boyfriend trembles at the sensation, grabbing the headboard forcibly.

“Fuck,” he moans as Castiel continues licking. When his mouth begins to feel dry, he spits into Dean’s hole and wiggles the tip of his tongue, feeling around the tight ring of muscle as it loosens up around him. Dean keens, a gorgeous, high-pitched sound Castiel hasn’t heard in far too long. Dean pushes backwards, begging for Cas to give him more. He spears his hole again and again, alternating between probing and sucking and licking, until the corners of his mouth are wet. 

“Cas, fuck, you gotta hurry,” Dean pleads, the words muffled since his face is buried in Castiel’s pillow. “I…I’m so fucking turned on…”

Castiel stops, but not before scattering each cheek with kisses and nips, making Dean shiver. “Are you going to come on my cock, gorgeous?” He asks it as a flirty question, not in the demanding tone of a dom, but something about the wording still feels too familiar. 

“Yes, fuck yes, Mast—” Dean stops suddenly, his breathing slowing. “Shit…”

Castiel sits back on his heels for a moment, thinking hard, before flipping Dean onto his back so they can be face to face.  

“Cas, I…” Dean goes willingly, eager as always to follow Castiel’s lead, but he’s frowning deeply. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he whispers. “I just—I heard your voice, I heard those words, and it slipped out…” 

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel says, emphasizing each word. He situates himself between Dean’s parted legs and kisses his cheeks, his forehead. “We knew this was going to be an adjustment for us.”

“Still, you didn’t think we were ready, and then I pushed it—”

“You didn’t push anything,”  Castiel interrupts, cutting through Dean’s rant. When that doesn’t seem to sway his boyfriend, though, he asks in a small voice, “Do you love me?”

Even lit purely by candles, Cas can see a flicker of softenness travel across Dean’s face. 

“Sweetheart, you know I do.”

“And I love you.” Castiel bends over again, finding the spot behind Dean’s ear that he loves, and sucks until Dean moans breathily. “We’ll figure everything else out, Dean, I promise. We’ll have all the time in the world, if I have anything to say about it.”

Dean chuckles gently, in obvious agreement, before Castiel’s mouth overtakes his. It’s a slow kiss, sweet and reassuring, and Cas only separates to stretch over to open the drawer of his end table. He comes back with lube but leaves the condoms there, thankful that they both were tested thoroughly—regularly for club membership, and then again, just weeks ago—and slicks his fingers up. Dean watches the whole process with drifting, lust-filled eyes.

“Put a pillow under you, baby. Let me see that stunning hole of yours.” 

Dean reacts beautifully to the dirty talk, as he always does, and reaches for the pillow closest to him, wedging it under his hips. Dean’s already slightly opened up from Castiel’s extensive rim job, and one of his fingers slides in with little resistance. 

“So good for me,” Castiel whispers. “Gonna feel so tight on my cock.”

“Fuck yeah.” Dean rolls his hips at the same time Castiel adjusts his finger, hooking it slightly and bringing it closer to the inside, and he skitters across Dean’s prostate with little to no warning. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Cas, Cas, ah, Jesus, Cas, please, Cas…”

Castiel smirks down wolfishly, unable to resist brushing Dean’s favorite spot for a few more seconds before finally withdrawing. Dean is panting noticeably now, chest sweaty, and Cas licks and sucks on Dean’s nipple. A moment later he adds a second finger. The more prep he does, the more imploringly Dean babble and begs, and it’s music to his ears. Third finger. Dean is grasping the sheets. Fourth finger. Dean is swearing loudly, some of it in Castiel’s direction. He’s right in the middle of saying something like, _I swear to god, Cas, if you don’t put that fucking cock inside of me—_ when Castiel pulls his fingers out, his heart racing wildly. He squirts a generous portion of lube onto his hand, then lathers up his cock, nudging his cockhead at the entrance of Dean’s hole. The only sounds in the room are breathy moans, but as Castiel pushes inside, bottoming out, they both cry out from the intensity of it. 

“So good Dean, so tight, baby,” Castiel mutters, and Dean can’t even form words yet, apparently, so Cas tries to wait patiently as he adjusts. It’s difficult, though, not only because this feels amazing, but because this is _Dean_ —Medic67, his beautiful green-eyed sub, his lover, his boyfriend, his partner. His everything.

“Such…a…fucking…sap,” Dean rasps, smiling up at him, and Castiel realizes belatedly that he’s said all that out loud. “You gonna move anytime soon? _Your everything_ is ready to have his brains fucked out.” 

“Still such a brat,” Castiel chuckles quietly, and begins to thrust headily, taking a few moments to figure out the best rhythm. Then he’s going at it earnestly, pounding into Dean as his boyfriend thrashes and cries out. Every inch of Castiel’s skin feels like it’s on fire, he’s practically vibrating with need, but he knows he isn’t hitting Dean’s prostate at this angle. It takes a moment of adjustment, but he pulls Dean up by his sides until he’s stretched out like putty in Castiel’s arms. Dean has to do a little more work now, but he takes it on beautifully, rutting his hips around and riding Castiel’s cock. With every raise of his hips, Castiel plunges in deeper, both of them picking up the pace with sudden urgency once the head of his cock hits Dean’s prostate. 

“Cas, fuck, right there, right…there…oh…Cas…shit, baby, feels so good…” 

Castiel growls, speeding up his thrusts as his own release rapidly approaches. “You gonna come on my cock, baby?”

“Yes, Cas, please don’t stop.” Dean throws his head back slightly, narrowing missing the headboard, and Castiel puts a hand on the back of his head protectively, just in case. “Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas…” Dean chants his name a handful more times before he comes untouched with the most sinful, enticing cry that Castiel has ever heard. Between that and his tight hole seizing up around Castiel’s dick, it only takes a few more pushes before he’s pumping Dean full of come, holding him tightly as they fall to the side in a heap of sweaty limbs.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, and Castiel hums in agreement, totally wiped out. Out of nowhere the electricity flutters back to life, the air conditioning sputtering and creaking. The alarm clock reveals it’s just one o’clock in the morning. Castiel’s bedside lamp illuminates the planes of Dean’s face with sudden clarity, and he melts at the sight. Dean looks satiated, beaming in the afterglow, and Castiel whispers, “So bright.”

“Yeah, that lamp’s got me squinting,” Dean mumbles, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t mean the lamp,” Castiel explains, finger softly tracing Dean’s cheeks, his chin, his eyelids. Dean just blushes, opening his eyes again and looking straight into Castiel’s gaze. They stay like that, Castiel’s cock still inside him, Dean’s hands clasping the back of his neck, staring at each other as if _this_ is the most magnificent thing.

The love they feel in this moment.

*** 

Dean can’t help but grin as he watches Castiel shift in the seat next to him. Peering up at the rearview, Sam fidgets in the back, running his hands through his too-long hair for the millionth time. It’s strange to be the calm one in the car. He thinks he should be more worried about this, but he just can’t bring himself to be. He’s about to have all his favorite people in one place and all that brings him is excitement. It’s been two weeks since the night the power went out and they’ve fallen into a wonderful new kind of rhythm together, like they finally found their footing with their burgeoning relationship, and this just feels like the next natural step.

Castiel lets out a long sigh, staring out the window. Dean takes pity on him, reaching a hand across the seat and placing it on his knee. Castiel turns and gives him a tight-lipped smile, worry still creasing his eyes.

“They are gonna love you, babe, just like I do.” He squeezes Cas’ knee, wanting to laugh at the sub comforting the dom, but he knows their relationship is bigger than just that. They’re there for each other in whatever way they need to be, and it fits. It’s everything he could want, and he’s ready to share that with his family.

He parks next to Bobby’s Charger and cuts the engine, looking at the two twitching men in his car. “Come on, guys, it’s gonna be fine. Chill out.” He rolls his eyes for a moment, stepping out of the car as a reluctant looking Sam and Cas follow him.

He goes to Castiel’s side, lacing their hands together. This seems to steady Cas a bit, giving Dean a more genuine smile. “You met Sam just fine. This will be a piece of pie.” He kisses Cas on the cheek just because he can.

“I believe the colloquialism is ‘a piece of cake.’”

“Yeah, but pie is so much better than cake,” Dean scoffs, and Castiel gives a warm laugh.

“Come on, already.” Sam rolls his eyes and Dean shares a conspiratorial smile with Cas before they all head around to Ellen’s backyard.

Ellen is turning on the grill and Jo is throwing horseshoes with Bobby and Jim. Rufus is on the sidelines, heckling during the game, per usual. Dean clears his throat to announce their arrival, and Ellen spins, moving straight for Cas. He gives his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze before he lets Ellen at him.

“So you must be this Castiel I have heard so much about.” She smiles up at him.

“And you must be Ellen. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Ellen sweeps him into a firm hug, and Dean can see the tension ease from Cas’ shoulders. Ellen gives one hell of a hug.

“Come on dear, time to meet the other dinosaurs around here.” Ellen loops an arm with Cas and leads him to where the rest of the family is congregated. Dean trails behind, letting Cas introduce himself and watches Bobby and Rufus take his measure while Jim tries to play referee. He knows Cas can handle them, and anyways, he kinda likes seeing his family put Cas through the ringer a bit. He finally has someone he cares enough about to subject them to this.

Sam and Jo are huddled off to the side talking, and he throws his brother a small thumbs up of encouragement. Sam answers him with a little nod—using that unspoken language between them. He almost can’t believe they’re both about to get what they want so bad. Sam gives him a look, like he can’t believe it either.

“So, what kinda wings you working with?” Bobby asks Cas as they head for the table, and Ellen starts setting out the food with Dean’s help. Castiel happily goes into all the details about his ‘copter and Dean loves listening to how passionate Cas is about it. Once they sit down he rubs a hand over Castiel’s knee, giving it a squeeze as he digs into his kabobs.

“You two meet online?” Jim asks, the last to sit down putting the ketchup in the middle for everyone.

“Yeah, we met through a medic group online,” Dean answers between bites, and he sees the scolding eye roll Cas gives him for talking with his mouth full.

“I know all the young people are meeting that way now. Sam and Jo, you should be taking notes,” Ellen adds with a wag of her finger. The two look at each other and Rufus barks out a laugh.

“Oh, I don’t think these two need any technological help,” he replies, eyeing them.

“Mom, uh…” Jo clears her throat, standing up next to Sam who quickly stumbles to follow her. “Sam and I are dating.” She hurries to clasp Sam’s hand and Dean’s eyes dart over to Ellen, who looks—completely and utterly unimpressed.

“Well, took you long enough. I thought you were gonna grow grey hair before you told me.” Ellen shakes her head.

“You knew?” Sam asks jaw hanging open.

“Of course I knew. Come now, you think I don’t know my own daughter? Or you, for that matter?” She looks between them.

“You two were about as subtle as an elephant in a china shop,” Rufus grunts, returning to his food.

Bobby and Jim chime in that they too are unsurprised but equally happy for them, and Dean shakes his head, meeting Sam’s eyes.  _See, told you so_.

Dean takes a moment to just take it all in…his family laughing and joking with Castiel at his side. It’s damn near perfection. Sam and Jo seeming to finally relax, and Jim tell his favorite story about John in the military involving a pair of boots and peanut butter. Dean can’t help but flush at the mention of boots, and Castiel nudges his foot under the table, which only makes him blush harder.

“I’ll grab dessert!” He bolts up out of his seat, stumbling over his feet before rushing to go grab the pie from the refrigerator. Jim brought his blueberry pie and Dean loads his arms with plates and forks on one side, the pie held out on display in the other. “I got the pie!” he announces to the communal eye roll of the group.

They all dig in and Dean moans around his bite, tasting the heavenly buttery crust, but turns when he hears choking. Castiel is coughing and turning all kinds of red, waving Dean off with a small scowl. Bobby barks a laugh. “Guessing you never heard Dean eat pie have you?”

Castiel nods his head, having witnessed it recently, and turning red again the group all chimes in laughing.

“Hey, I will not apologize for fully enjoying my pie.” Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, taking a huge but silent bite of the dessert. He’s pretty sure his own cheeks are turning pink as well. The chuckles die down and Ellen asks Castiel about his family, and he smiles at her for the change of subject. Soon the conversation turns to embarrassing childhood stories of Dean—like the time he’d gotten his head stuck in the banister railings at Bobby’s house, or added kool-aid mix to the holy water at Jim’s church, or when he had gone through a cowboy phase as a kid and refused to take off his Halloween costume for two weeks, until Ellen stole it from his room to wash it.

“Okay, alright, I think we’ve had enough. We gotta be heading out anyway,” Dean says, thinking now is an excellent time for them to make their escape.

Dean gives Ellen a hug, then she makes a point to sweep Castiel up into one more hug as well. “You take care of my boy now. He’s so used to taking care of everyone else, he deserves someone looking out for him too.”

Castiel grins at her while Dean rolls his eyes. “I have every intention of doing just that,” Cas says. They say their goodbyes to the others and Dean slings an arm around Castiel as they head back out to the car.

They leave Sam and Jo to take her car home, since they have a very different destination. Dean itches to turn on the radio and fill the silence a little, but something in Castiel’s posture tells him to stay still. He drives with minimal movement on his part, only darting one or two glances to the side. Castiel is sitting with his shoulders back and chin up, looking out the window, and Dean thinks he looks so incredibly unlike his nervous boyfriend from earlier in the day. It’s like from one moment to the next he’s changed from funny, dorky boyfriend, to powerful and confident dom.

Dean arrives in the parking lot of the Black & Blue and cuts the car off. The evening light is just about gone, and the blue light from the car illuminates their faces. Dean places his hands in his lap, heart beginning to race. It’s been so long since they’ve scened. He’s felt it wearing on his nerves more and more by the day and seen the growing tension in Castiel’s eyes. They both need this. But that doesn’t make it any less scary. 

A finger under his chin makes him startle, but he turns to look across the seat at the warm, hungry eyes taking him in. “Dean.” Castiel says his name almost reverently. “You ready to do this?”

Dean softens under the light touch of the thumb caressing his jaw. He tilts his face a little to the left, and just like he expected, the hand is there cuping his cheek. He hums a moment, letting the contact ground him. Flicking his eyes up to meet Castiel’s again, he holds their gaze as he presses a soft kiss to that palm. “I’m ready, Master.”

Castiel’s hand stiffens a moment, gripping his face now, and Dean relishes the tiny spark of pain. “The things you do to me.” Castiel shakes his head and reaches inside a bag he stashed in the footwell, pulling out a black leather leash and collar. Dean tilts forward, allowing Castiel to fasten it on and check the tightness. He likes the feel of it bobbing below his Adam’s apple, cementing it down as a reminder that they are playing now and Dean can just let go.

“Come, pet, don’t make me wait,” his master says, and Dean hurries to shuffle out of the car, quickly handing over the leash with a blush creeping up his cheeks. He hopes the blue light hides it, since it’s far too early in the night to be blushing this hard.

Castiel leads the way with Dean trailing just behind him at his side. The club is fairly quiet and a few people are waiting in the lounge, others in the bar. The stage is relatively empty, Dean notes, and the only thing on it is a square padded platform he’s never seen before. It looks to be about four feet by four feet with rings bolted all along the side.

“Go and change in room four, pet. I will come to get you when I’m ready.” Castiel hands him the leash and points toward the door with the green signal light lit up. Dean shuffles off to the room and quickly stumbles out of his clothes. Completely nude save the collar, just like they talked about. His skin already prickles with goosebumps as he bounces on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He wanted to be surprised, so all that Cas had told him was that there would be exhibitionism involved.

It’s only minutes, but it feels like hours before there’s a small knock at the door, and then Castiel is striding in. He holds out the leash, an offering to the man before him. Dean wants to say something, to tell him how much it means to him and how much it makes his chest swell with the sight of him. But he bites his tongue—he is going to be good tonight, he is going to be perfect for his dom.

“Thank you, pet,” his master answers, taking the leash from his hands. There’s a warmth and understanding to his voice. This means just as much to him as it does to Dean. He steps up to Dean and reaches out to grip his half-hard cock, causing him to gasp in surprise. “Be still, you won’t be coming tonight until I am good and satisfied you are mine.” Cas’ voice is now edged with command. Dean feels the cool roll of a metal cock ring sliding into place.

He follows Castiel back into the club, keeping his eyes down, and he hears the murmering from the crowd begin to die down a bit. Hushed whispers reach his ears but he drowns it out, only listening for the next command from his master. Castiel leads him to the center of the stage and turns him, facing the crowd gathering there.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming to watch my pet tonight. Isn’t he lovely?” Castiel stands behind him, a firm presence at his back. The crowd gives murmured approval that makes Dean blush even brighter red than he had been. “Yes, well, I am happy to inform you that he…is...mine,” Castiel lets each word linger in the air, “and I am going to prove it to him and all of you tonight.”

Dean shivers as Castiel moves to stand in front of him. Deep blue eyes stare at him now as a finger traces along the leather of his collar. “On your back, pet, legs spread for me.”

Dean lies down on the platform and lets Castiel guide him into position. Legs are bent and pushed open in a wide butterfly, and Dean shivers as all of him is exposed to the room. Castiel comes back with a long line of black rope in his hands and gives Dean a smirk before he sets to the task at hand.

Dean feels the rope twist around his left ankle, looping up and over his bent knee and pulling it down. Castiel feeds the rope through one of the rings. Dean closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, feeling the pull of rope on his skin pressing his leg just where his master wants.

“Such a good and open little slut for me,” Castiel teases, and the crowd chuckles, making him burn with embarrassment. “Beautiful bow legs were born for this, fall right where I want them.”

Dean’s cock throbs as his mind coils with heat of shame and lust all at once. He feels his other ankle get the same treatment and his legs twitch against the strong hold. Castiel slides and knots the rope till both his hands are strapped down to the side of the box over his head, keeping him now completely at his mercy. “I don’t really need to even tie this one down, he’s so well trained he’d just stay there without the rope, wouldn’t you, pet?”

“Yes, Master,” he answers, his voice already cracking.

“But you like being trussed up, don’t you? Being pressed down so I can do whatever I want to you?” his master taunts, running a solitary finger up his side and making his skin flinch at the sensation. There’s a sudden hard smack right to the inside of his thigh that makes him howl at the shock of it. “I didn’t hear an answer.”

“Yes, Master!” Dean chokes out, panting harder now as his skin sings and burns from the smack.

Another vicious smack lands on his other thigh and he gasps in a breath, shuddering at the shock of pain. “Tell me how much you like it, pet,” the words are growled out as his master bends down by his ear.

“I love it, Master, need it, Master, please, please,” he begs, unable to stop squirming against his bindings. He’s thankful the rope is soft, allowing him the freedom to test his limits more without fear of hurting himself.

“Good, needy little pets only get what they want when they ask for it.” Dean blinks up at the face staring down at him and is overwhelmed but the look of desire, lust, and awe on Cas’ face. “Feel free to come up and get a better look, just remember, no one lays a finger on him.” Dean doesn’t think anyone would challenge a threat like that. He hears the shuffle of feet and sees the crowd move to form a circle around them. People whispering and laughing sharing drinks. Several with subs of their own at their sides. He feels even more small and exposed like this. He loses track of Cas for a moment and when he finds him again, he’s standing between Dean’s splayed open legs, a riding crop in-hand and devilish look on his angelic face.

“Time to play, pet.”

Castiel wastes little time working his body over. Harsh smacks of the crop to his stomach is followed up with teasing licks and soothing kisses. His body trembles as Castiel moves all over him, searing pain followed by taunting, soft touches. Lips suck at his nipples before teeth dig in making him cry out. All the while his cock bobs painfully hard and completely ignored, caught in the confines of the ring.

“Who do you belong to?” Castiel growls, landing a smack to his thigh.

“You, Master!” he pants out, whining when soft fingertips smooth over the reddened skin.

“Hurt so pretty for me,” Castiel purrs. Lips suck and kiss against his skin again, marking him up and making his body ache with the building need to come. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. You, Master,” Dean answers again, closing his eyes and trying in vain to thrust his hips up, desperate for some friction on the one part of him Castiel hasn’t claimed. His master is nowhere near done though. He continues his teasing, taunting tricks, constantly asking Dean who he belongs to and chuckling as his replies only get more and more desperate as his mind struggles to form the words. Body lost in sensation and floating up high, all the people around him disappear and all he knows is what he can feel. Claimed in every way, every inch of him feels marked by Cas and he doesn’t know if he will ever come down from this.

“Mine.”

“Yours!”

“Mine.”

“Yours!”

Back and forth now, a mantra between them, and he feels it to his bones as a tongue licks up his taint and teases at his balls. He might shatter, just on the brink, knowing he is right where his master wants him. 

***

Castiel’s body is thrumming with desire, his cock straining against his zipper. The love of his life is a gorgeous, whimpering mess beneath him, the bondage board keeping him open and on his back. Castiel licks his lips hungrily, rolling one of Dean’s balls around in his mouth, making the man’s skin sloppy and wet. When he pulls away, he sees Dean’s thighs blooming into a beautiful shade of red from the earlier session with the riding crop. A roll of sweat cascades from Dean’s temple as he begs for more, more, more.

“Patience, pet,” Cas murmurs sweetly, hands brushing over the impact marks on his sub’s thighs. After a moment Castiel turns, noticing their audience has grown. When he had first arranged a prospective public scene with Billie, he had expected a small handful of viewers, especially for a Sunday evening. But now there are a dozen people watching them, at least, mostly play partners partially dressed with hands groping one another, looking as though they’d love nothing more than to taste every inch of Dean’s naked body. Unfortunately for them, his sub is claimed in every sense of the word. 

Castiel presses the heel of his hand against his erection, amazed that just seeing his boyfriend unclothed and begging is enough to make him this turned on. He loves how he feels right now—self-assured, in-control of Dean’s pleasure, strong and desired by the man he loves. It’s been too long since they’ve played, and while Cas is thankful that they took the time to work on their romantic relationship first, there’s no happy ending for either of them if it doesn’t include _this_ , too. A total embracing of their sexual fantasies, their kinks, the power dynamic of dom and sub that makes them both feel so satisfied. How Castiel gets to have his intelligent and charismatic medic boyfriend, Dean, as well as his beautiful, green-eyed cockslut of a sub, in one convenient package, is _beyond_ him. He’s hit the jackpot, that much is true.

“Be right back, gorgeous,” Castiel whispers, a hand trailing down his calf, knowing Dean tends to require reassurance if he’s bound and Castiel isn’t in his line of vision. He sees Dean comprehend what Cas is saying and relax into the padded platform, chest panting with want, eyes closed. He looks so beautiful that Castiel has to resist the urge to smother his face with kisses, but no, that would pull Dean from his sub space. He’ll save it for later, during aftercare. He makes his way to the nearby trunk, full of various ropes and cuffs, and locates the piece of equipment he knows is inside. It’s a black leather strip with rope and cuffs on the bottom, and adjustable rope with metal carabiners on the other end. He settles between Dean’s spread-eagle legs, making quick work of untying the rope on his ankles. Then he maneuvers Dean to the edge of the platform with his knees up, pushed against his chest, exposing that gorgeous ass just begging to be fucked. 

“Such a delicious little slut,” Castiel breathes, Dean’s eyes hooded and transfixed on his dom’s face. “Can’t wait to pound into that tight hole of yours while everyone watches.”

“Master…” Dean moans, wiggling his ass needily. Castiel smirks but ignores him for now, putting his sub’s legs into the new piece of equipment and attaching the carabiners to the metal circles near Dean’s arms. Once Cas has tested the bonds and everything is secure, he instructs Dean to relax, and his sub follows the demand immediately. Even with his muscles lax, Dean’s held snuggly with his knees up and together, his arms still held back, only his head able to be lifted.

He looks mouthwatering.

“Do you like that, pet? Do you like being held down, your body at my mercy?” 

Dean lets out a breathy, desperate moan. “Yes, Master, love it…” He pauses, eyes glistening and half-closed. “Love you…” He whispers that last bit softly enough that Castiel doubts anyone else heard him, and his heart melts a little, so pleased that even these moments can be infused with such love. Though all of his previous subs trusted him, he’s never felt loved during a scene before and loved anyone else in return. He swallows down a wave of emotion, his throat tight. 

“And I love you, my sweet boy,” he says, just as quietly, hands touching Dean’s bare skin. He stands back up, shaking himself, trying to regain his focus. He shouldn’t be surprised that Dean has knocked him off-kilter—he’s always had that ability, even when he was just Castiel’s green-eyed sex partner. Castiel broke his rules for his sub all the time, his allure too strong to resist, and now that they’re in love… Well, Castiel is going to have to work hard to keep his dom persona from softening too much. 

“And because you’re such a good boy,” Castiel says, a little louder and firmer now, the spectators leaning in with interest, “I’ve decided we should show everyone what a cockslut you are. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please, Master,” Dean sighs, fidgeting as his cock shuffles against his stomach. He still has on the cock ring, and for a fleeting moment Cas is tempted to slip it off, but decides to keep it on longer. Dean is speaking way too coherently for his liking, but Cas knows just how to get under his skin. He spreads his boyfriend’s ass cheeks wide with both hands, and licks a wet, flat tongue against Dean’s entrance. Dean’s moans are almost drowned out by the reaction of the crowd, nearly a dozen sighs and groans cascading through the room as Castiel rims his hole quick and dirty. It’s not a teasing pace, it’s a punishing gallop, his tongue spearing the inside of Dean—probing, wet, wild, Dean shouting above him. After a few more tortuous moments, he leans back on his knees, finding the small bag he brought from home and locates the lube. Just the sound of the cap opening has Dean moaning, which is so insanely hot, Castiel isn’t sure how to function. He slicks up two fingers and slides them both in, a little tight and fast but he knows Dean’s limits, can map out every nook and cranny of this man’s body. Dean pushes against the fingers as if it’s not nearly enough, but when Castiel brushes against his prostate, he knows that Dean must be seeing stars. 

“Oh, oh fuck, oh fuck Master, Master p-please, oh fuck…” 

Castiel’s own breath turns shallow, knowing if he doesn’t touch his dick soon he’s going to implode. He adds a third finger, simply for the stretch and prep, and then he’s unzipping his jeans finally, slipping his hard cock through the flap in his boxers. He adds another generous dollop of lube to his hand, smearing it over his leaking erection. With the other hand, he sifts around the bag until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Cocksluts like my sub love for every hole to be full,” Castiel says brashly for the crowd. “Don’t you, slut?” 

“Y-yes, Master,” Dean answers, though he seems uncertain, not sure where his dom is going with this. 

“I thought so,” Castiel purrs softly. “Open up, beautiful. Show them how your lips look stretched wide.”

Dean obliges and Castiel shoves the large, flesh-colored dildo into his mouth without preamble. It’s a little difficult at this angle, with Dean’s knees in the way, but Cas manages to make it work. Dean chokes around the intrusion but Castiel keeps his pace hurried, fucking Dean’s mouth with the toy as Cas’ cock slides against his ass crack. Dean let’s out an outrageously deep moan when Castiel’s cock finally enters, the sound vibrating up through the dildo in Cas’ hand, but the dom barely notices. He’s too busy focusing on the hot, tight channel of Dean’s hole pulsing around his cock, and he growls out, “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.” 

He doesn’t stop his ministrations with the dildo pushed inside Dean’s mouth, but he stills his hips and lets his boyfriend adjust around the girth of Cas’ cock. After a moment, Dean’s pants of discomfort turn to moans of pleasure, and Castiel begins thrusting his cock in and out, slamming into Dean with a fierce desperation. Juggling the pace of both the penetration of Dean’s hole and the dildo filling his mouth is a little clumsy, though they’re both enjoying themselves immensely, the sensation slightly slowed by all the maneuvering. After a while Castiel let’s the dildo drop, the end of the rubber head lying against Dean’s spit-soaked and open lips, and Cas situates himself in deeper, rocketing his hips.

“Maybe one day I’ll see you with a real cock in your mouth, while I’m buried in your ass,” Castiel growls, mostly just dirty talk, though he’s surprised by how turned on he is by this idea. He’s healthily possessive of Dean, more than anyone he’s ever dated or dommed, but his boyfriend loves cock so much that just the image of him being surrounded by more men, mouth stuffed full and hands stroking cocks, makes Castiel feel heady and reckless. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut? Me owning you while you have so many cocks ready for you, you don’t even know what to do with them?”

“F-fuck,” is all Dean can manage, because Castiel’s cockhead grazes his prostate lightly. Dean’s abdomen is tightening, a low whine escaping his throat. “Please, please let me come, p-please…Master…I-I need you…”

Distantly behind them Castiel hears the sound of moans, the shuffle of bodies, and he figures some people are fooling around now, so turned on by the display between Dean and Castiel.

“You hear those people, getting off to the sight of you? Watching my cock fuck you, going in and out of your tight hole? You taking my dick like you were born for it?”

He slows his pace and Dean whines, needy and desperate, but then Cas snakes a hand down between them and rolls the cock ring off. He drops it down beside him on the padded mat, and then resumes his previous pace. 

“Gonna come on my cock, pretty baby?” he teases, chest panting as he nears his own orgasm. “Gonna let everyone hear how you sound when you come?”

“Y-yes, Master, ah, fuck, Cas, fuck,” Dean babbles as he gets closer. “Fuck, gonna, gonna come, ah, don’t stop, please Cas—”

And then he cries out, such a deliciously sinful noise that Castiel is pretty sure there are other orgasms rippling through the crowd. Dean’s upper stomach and chest are covered in come and his head is slung back, eyelids fluttering. Castiel still chasing his own release as he pistons forward in a rapid rate, Dean’s hole still clenched as he moans, and it takes barely another minute before Castiel is letting out his own deep, growling moan, painting the inside of Dean’s hole with come. He slumps down, cradling Dean’s knees. After a few moments basking together, Cas chuckles softly at the mess they’ve made. 

“That was incredible, baby,” Dean slurs, exhaustion evident in his voice. The crowd is clearing now and Cas kisses his cheeks, undoing the restraints gently. 

Once Dean is unbound, he raises shaky hands to Castiel’s face. He’s wearing a blissed out grin as he pulls him down into a soft kiss. 

“We still got it, huh, angel?” Dean chuckles softly in his ear. 

“Yes, handsome,” Castiel whispers back, “we still got it.” Dean nuzzles in against his neck, and Castiel knows now that this will work, they will work. He can’t wait to carry Dean into a private room for aftercare, can’t wait to hold him, kiss him, make him feel as wanted as Dean’s made him feel today.

He is so, undoubtedly, unquestionably, in love with Dean Winchester. But the most amazing part is that Dean is in love with him, too. They were destined for each other—how else would they have met _twice_ , as online friends and as sex partners? They’re still both of those things, but they’re much more now. If Castiel believed in fate, he might’ve thought it was the work of the universe bringing them together. But neither of them believe in signs…though signals.

Signals have always been worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Double penetration with a dildo, vanilla sex (lol), sappy coauthors, endings
> 
> This story might be over, but we’re both writing and publishing fic every day! Be sure to subscribe for new one-shots, WIPs, and who knows, maybe a future sequel or timestamp for this particular story. (We hate saying goodbye just as much as you do.)
> 
> (CB: I’m not crying, you’re crying! ...Okay, we’re both crying.)
> 
> Thank you again for being the most passionate and amazing readers ever. See you in the comments!!


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